A Different Path
by hellogoodbye57
Summary: A little bit of end of the world but with a twist. Definite MSR. Not as much case-centric as some of my other stuff, but it will still have the X-filesy elements. It's just an idea I had-let me know if I should continue it or not.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

A full moon shone brightly in the night sky, casting slanting shadows across the golden sand. Ghost crabs scuttled between the rays of light, completing their nightly dance for food. The waves lapped against the sand, slowly carrying away the grains before depositing them again in a never-ending cycle that had begun thousands of years before. The scene depicted nature at its finest: unaffected by human activities, pure and unadulterated.

The few inhabitants of the island had picked the area for that reason. It was virtually unknown by most people; in fact, it did not even appear on most maps. People who lived there typically came because they wanted to escape from the world. There was no governmental body, no true laws except the immutable laws of nature. As such, the island had become a safe haven for some of the most cunning criminals along with people who had simply become tired of the fast-paced modern world or disillusioned with their governments. In short, the occupants ranged from a white-collar criminal who had embezzled millions of dollars from the software company that he had worked for to a retired senator who had realized after many years in office that the political system in virtually every country was inherently corrupt.

Even amongst the eclectic band of inhabitants on the island, however, two stuck out like sore thumbs. They were relatively new to the island, having arrived only four years before under rather mysterious circumstances. Rumors about who they were and where they had come from spread quickly around the island until every person seemed to be telling a different story about their origins. Some said that they had killed four people in a bank heist from which they collected nearly two hundred million dollars. Others claimed that they were former spies on the run from virtually every government, including their own, while still others thought that they were scientists who had discovered the key to eternal life and had subsequently been banished to the island because their government feared what they might do with this knowledge.

One thing that made the newcomers so mysterious was that they rarely ever interacted with the other people on the island. The man would come into the store every weekend to gather enough supplies for the two of them for the week before disappearing back inside their small house again. He rarely talked to anyone else, and when he did, it was usually only to give cursory answers to a question. The woman was even more mysterious; she would come into the store instead of the man perhaps once a month or so, and no one had ever heard her utter more than two words on these visits. They both worked a small farm on a plot of land behind their house (which was too small to truly be afforded that title; a better descriptor would actually be cottage). It was obvious that one of them had money stored up, for the food they produced never sold for enough to cover all the items they bought. Yet somehow they managed.

Another odd thing about the newcomers was the visitors who occasionally came in on speed boats, which provided the only means of transportation to and from the island. Many of these people would come in carrying files or other boxes of equipment that no one could identify. They would always leave the day after they came, sometimes carrying other files or equipment back with them and sometimes going empty-handed. One of the other people on the island had tried to break into the house to discover the identity of some of the mysterious items in the boxes, but somehow, the two people had been alerted, and they stopped the would-be thief before he entered the house. After that point, no one dared to try to rob them again. Though the people looked to be in their late forties, they were still in excellent shape, and they both simply looked dangerous, a condition which merely perpetuated the outrageous rumors.

And so for four years, the two people had kept themselves completely isolated. It was obvious they were running from something or someone, but no one had yet worked up the courage to ask who or what. In truth, many people did not want to know, for they feared the answer might be more catastrophic than anyone could imagine.

Chapter 1

The small cottage was rather non-descript, similar to the other dwellings on the island yet still unique. The outside was rather mundane; it had been built from wood that was in remarkably good condition considering the age of the cottage. Originally, the wood had been painted white, but this color had faded to a dusty grey. Though it had been painted numerous times since it was built, the color never lasted, and every owner eventually gave up and allowed the grey tint to remain. Despite the off-colored walls, however, the cottage appeared well cared-for. The windows were spotless, and the roof looked to be freshly shingled. A small garden in the front supported a variety of colorful flowers which bloomed for a good portion of the year due to the perpetual warm weather. The farm behind the house was similarly well-tended. All of the crops grew in immaculately straight rows, and anyone would be hard-pressed to find a single weed.

The house itself had just enough space inside for a small kitchen, a bathroom, a living area, and a bedroom. Though the furnishings and decorations were sparse, the place still appeared homey. The owners appeared to be looking for function and comfort over style, and they had achieved this effect remarkably well with the deep-seated tan sofa in the living room and the matching armchair. No one who entered the house would see anything out of the ordinary. It appeared perfectly natural for two middle-aged owners.

Behind the crops lay another strip of land which had also come with the house. This piece of land was wooded, containing a large forest of trees which extended back beyond the boundaries of the property. Buried just within the forest, however, was a building that most people never knew existed. It was a large shed, measuring about fifty feet on either side. At one point in time, it had likely been used as a barn, but it was currently employed for other purposes.

Two people sat inside on a brown sofa which had seen better days. Two large tears across the back revealed a good deal of yellowing stuffing, and the legs contained a number of deep scratches and gouges. The people seated on it, however, ignored these shortcomings. They appeared to be in an intense debate about something else, something so important that nothing else mattered at the moment.

The man was tall and lean with long legs that he had stretched out across the floor in front of him. His longish dark hair was turning grey in numerous places, clearly indicating that he was likely in his mid to late forties. Deep gouges crossed his face, especially at the corners of his eyes, but he still appeared powerful. His body was well-muscled, and his eyes were clear and sharp. He was obviously a man who had fought against the world for most of his life, who had failed time and time again but still not admitted defeat. His green eyes shone with determination, with a unique desire to keep going even when everything seemed to be going to hell.

The woman had a similar power though hers was less obvious upon first glance. She was petite, likely no taller than 5'2" or 5'3", but, like the man, was in excellent condition for her age and size. Her red hair had dulled over time, but it did not yet show signs of grey (a situation likely helped by her use of hair dye). Her clear blue eyes were intelligent; one could look into them and immediately see that she was no average woman. She, too, seemed to carry the scars of her past on her shoulders, but she also managed to sit up straight and to continue to face the world with a strength and determination that few could claim to possess.

The man stood up and began to pace across the room, turning frequently to avoid the various electronic equipment and boxes of files stacked haphazardly around the place. As he turned, the soft lights in the room illuminated a black holster on his hip which housed a dangerous-looking hand gun. Further inspection of the room would reveal a number of other guns ranging from shotguns to semi-automatic machine guns placed at strategic points. The two had a veritable arsenal in the shed, a fact which seemed incongruous given their rather peaceful surroundings.

"Mulder, sit down," the woman instructed. "Getting agitated is not going to help matters at all."

"At least I'll feel like I'm doing something," Mulder argued though he complied with the request. He looked to her, and a thousand words flowed between them. They interacted like two people who shared a single mind. It was obvious that they had known one another for years and were completely comfortable around each other. They did not need to communicate verbally; they understood everything that remained unsaid.

"We are doing something, Mulder. We've been doing something for years now."

"Not that it matters," Mulder muttered, looking down at his lap.

"We don't know that yet."

"Look at us, Scully!" Mulder cried, exploding suddenly and violently from the couch. "Just sitting here waiting when we could be out doing something to stop this."

"Mulder, we've done everything we can!"

"What if we haven't? What if there was something somewhere along the way that we could have done differently. Something that would have changed our situation ever so slightly so that we wouldn't be sitting here right now?"

"Mulder, calm down."

"No, think of it, Scully! One little thing, one small decision made differently could change the entire outcome of our lives. A butterfly that flaps its wings in South America-"

"Can cause a hurricane in the United States?" Scully said, her tone of voice clearly conveying her skepticism. "Mulder, we need to stop dwelling on the past. What if's aren't going to help us now. We made the decisions we did, and we can't change them now. We're just going to have to concentrate on the future."

"Scully-"

"Mulder, look." Scully grabbed his hand between both of hers, causing him to look directly at her. "We both made mistakes in our lives. But everybody does. We're not perfect. Could one decision have changed our current situation? Maybe. But honestly, I'm okay with where we are now. I've gotten a lot more out of this life than I ever believed possible. And come what may, I'm happy with where I am now."

Mulder scoffed. "Yeah right."

"You aren't happy with where you ended up?"

"Of course I am. But I started with nothing and gained so much. You on the other hand have lost everything you had and all you have to show for it is, well, this." He gestured at the disorderly shed around them.

"You're right, Mulder. I have this." She squeezed his hand. "I have the twenty years we've spent together. I have the trust and love that we've spent so long developing. I have you, Mulder, and I wouldn't change that for anything."

Chapter 2 (Scully)

I watched him trying to puzzle out my last words. It was interesting to see the emotions play across his face; I had always enjoyed watching the subtle changes of expression as he thought hard about something. He had long ago claimed that he thought I could read his mind. In truth, I could not literally read his mind, but I could read him. The casual smirk, the slight raise of his eyebrows, the subtle dilation of his pupils were as easy for me to read as the English language. One of the benefits of being together twenty years was that you got to know a person as well if not better than you knew yourself. It was the reason we could have an entire conversation without speaking, the reason that I knew what he was feeling even when he refused to give me this information. It was what had made us great partners, what had kept us together for so many years. For though we were complete opposites, our differences allowed us to share a connection deeper than any that I had ever shared with another person.

"What about a few years free of mutants and government conspiracies?" he finally asked, his lips upturning slightly. He had decided to use humor to escape from the situation; I had known from the beginning that he would. Mulder had always had difficulty expressing his feelings; in all honesty, I had this same difficulty. I suppose this was one of the reasons that it took us seven years before we finally admitted how we felt about one another. My confession was unusual, and I knew that it scared him more than anything. He knew I would not express my emotions quite so clearly unless I felt that the situation was dangerous enough to require such an action. And I did feel that the current situation fell into this category. As much as he wanted to ignore the danger, it was still there, and we had to acknowledge it.

"Mulder, can you please be serious for a moment?"

"Actually, I much prefer to be Mulder."

"Mulder!"

He sucked in a deep breath and tilted his head back so that he was looking at the ceiling. When he looked back at me, his normally vibrant green eyes seemed dull. "Scully," he said, his voice choked as if he were in great pain.

"I know, Mulder." And I did know. I understood how much pain he felt, how much he felt that he had left undone, that we had left undone. I cursed those seven years that we had danced around each other, seven years in which we could have been considerably happier if we both had not been so goddamned stubborn. But I completely believed what I had said earlier. We were together, and in the end, that was all that really mattered.

Simultaneously, both our eyes travelled to the clock. The second hand seemed interminably slow, as if we were moving past it at relativistic speeds so that time dilated. The physicist in me immediately rejected this preposterous suggestion, but I could not help but wonder if time truly had slowed down in the outside world, leaving us waiting with baited breath. Anticipation coursed through both of our veins as we tried to determine what would occur when the hour hand finally hit the twelve. We only had another couple hours to wait, but it seemed as if that time would never come. Of course, I was perfectly happy if it never did. Twelve o'clock was likely to bring something more horrible than anyone had ever experienced.

A calendar hung next to the clock, its pages open to the current month. It was December. We should have been preparing for Christmas like many of the other people on the island. We should have been arguing over what kind of tree to buy, where to put it, how many decorations to put up, and all the other silly squabbles that come up during Christmas time. We should have been baking dozens of cookies and preparing for the arrival of more family members we could count. In short, we should have been doing anything other than simply sitting there watching the second hand sweep slowly across the face of the clock.

But there was no joy, no Christmas spirit to be found in the house. It was not because either of us was anti-Christmas; though I had spent some interesting Christmases with Mulder, I was usually a traditionalist, and I had managed to involve him in the typical holiday festivities over the past few years. But this year was different. This year, we had nothing to celebrate. We had bigger concerns than the size of the tree or gifts we planned on buying one another. We were not concentrated on December 25 but rather three days before this date.

The date was not marked on our calendar, for we had reached a tacit agreement that any mark would simply degrade it, reduce the significance of the date. Anyway, there was really nothing to write on the calendar. We could not label the day as "Final Alien Invasion" or "Armageddon," for such titles seemed ridiculous. Besides, we both knew the importance of the date whether or not we marked it. It had been burned into both our minds more than ten years before.

Mulder suddenly broke his gaze from the clock. His restless hands left mine and traveled down to the holster on his hip. Pulling his gun from it, he released the clip and checked it before reloading it and replacing the gun. He had repeated the same ritual nearly a dozen times over the past two hours. It was a matter of comfort for him, something familiar for him to do so that he could stop concentrating on the inevitable future even for only a few minutes. As soon as the gun was back in its holster, I reached for his hands and covered them again with mine, pulling them into my lap. "Sit down, Mulder." My voice was soft. I did not intend to beg, but my words certainly had a pleading quality to them.

Mulder sat beside me, turning his hands so that he could grab mine in his. Our fingers curled around each other, a tangible representation of our lives over the past twenty years—separate yet inextricably linked. We sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost deep in thought. I could tell he was remembering everything he had done with his life; I could tell he was also blaming himself for various wrongdoings that he believed he had committed over the years.

"Stop it, Mulder."

"I'm not doing anything."

"This is not your fault."

"It sure feels like it."

"Mulder, for once in your life, can you please admit that you are not to blame for everything that goes wrong in this world?"

"I'm not to blame for everything that goes wrong in this world." His voice was flat and monotonous, devoid of its usual humor.

"For God sakes, Mulder, you sound like. . . like. . ."

"Like the world's about to end?" This time, the corners of his lips did quirk up slightly. I bit my tongue and turned away from him. In truth, that was what I had been about to say, but I had stopped myself just in time. "Well, Scully, the world is about to end, so I think I'm entitled to sound like that."

"Goddammit, Mulder, not everything is about you."

"I'm aware of that."

"Sometimes I wonder if you are."

"You know, Scully, if these really are my last hours on earth, I would prefer not to go out fighting with the only woman I ever truly loved."

That statement shut me up. When I said earlier that neither of us had ever been good at expressing our feelings, I was not exaggerating. Hearing Mulder tell me he loved me was a rare occurrence. I did not doubt his love, of course. It was often tangible, apparent to even the casual observer simply by the way he looked at me. I knew he loved me, and he knew I loved him, so neither of us felt that we needed to say the words aloud often. Sometimes, however, I wish I heard them more—and under better circumstances..

"It's funny," Mulder continued. "They put you with me to shut me down, and you're the only thing that's kept me going. There were times when the only reason I got out of bed in the morning was because of you, Scully. When I was in hiding, I kept wondering why I didn't just let them capture me. After all, I had done what I set out to do—I found my sister. But then I thought of you and. . . and William, and I decided I could hang on for just one more day.

I never told you why I went to that government facility when I did. I know you've been wondering that. After all, I was pretty sure that doing so would guarantee that they would find me, and you know that I knew that. But I did it for you, Scully. You and William. The man who gave me that information told me that going there was the only way I could save the people I loved. He said that the information stored at that facility would be vital for our survival in the future. I was willing to risk my life and my freedom if it meant saving you and William. I was willing to do anything for the two of you. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do." Tears were now pooling in my eyes. I had rarely heard Mulder express his sentiments so freely. The intense emotion etched into his face affected me more than I wanted to admit.

"Not that any of it mattered. I got the information, but I didn't save anyone. I've just forced us both onto this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere."

"Mulder, if you blame yourself one more time, I'm going to pull out my gun and shoot you."

"I don't doubt that. So in the spirit of not spending our last couple hours fighting, I'm going to stop blaming myself."

"Good." I leaned toward him slowly, stopping just before our lips touched to whisper, "I love you, Mulder. More than anything." I do not know why I was compelled to say those words, but I felt at the time that it was absolutely necessary that I tell him how I felt. Though he might know, some things were simply better when said aloud.

Chapter 3 (Mulder)

As soon as she said those words, I knew she felt exactly the same way that I did. The next two hours could very well be the last two we spent together. All bets were off. It was time to forget about our stupid inability to express our emotions and just say what we felt. And so I responded with those same three powerful words. "I love you, too. Now and always." And with that, our lips merged.

We had never gotten married. It was something we had actually talked about briefly after William was born, but then I had to go into hiding, a necessity which delayed the process indefinitely. And the next time we met, I was in a military prison on trial for my life, so the circumstances were not exactly conducive to a wedding ceremony. Once I escaped from that hellhole, we were trying to remain inconspicuous, so a marriage did not seem advisable. Besides, we had more pressing problems—namely, the end of the world—to concentrate on.

And so we had never married. I often wondered if Scully regretted this fact. I knew that most women dreamed of their wedding day. They started planning it out when they were still young girls, deciding what dress they would wear, where it would be held, who would be invited, etc. But Scully had never realized those dreams, and it was my fault just like pretty much everything else that had gone wrong in her life.

I had actually asked once more after escaping from jail if she wanted to get married. She had simply shrugged me off, telling me it was not important. This threw me off a bit until she explained that as far as she was concerned, we were married in every way except having an actual license signed by a judge. In many ways, I guess she was right. We had long ago decided to adhere to the marriage vows. We knew that we would always be there for one another in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse. . . until death do us part. Unfortunately, the last condition might occur much sooner than either of us wished.

As I looked at the woman next to me, I suddenly realized that no matter what happened, she was right. At least we were together. And for the next two hours, I was going to make sure that that was the only thing which mattered.

With one hand behind her back, I slowly lowered her to the couch, supporting myself with my other elbow above her. The couch had been with me through so much over the years that it had been impossible to give it away which was how it had ended up in the shed along with everything else that we had hoped to use to forestall the upcoming invasion. But none of that mattered now. The invasion would come, and we would face it together when it did, just as we had faced countless horrors together over the previous few years.

And so that was how we ended up curled together on the couch when the clock struck midnight. We had planned long and hard, and we had intended to be ready when the time came for the final invasion. The shed had been stocked with enough food and water to last the two of us for years along with copies of all the X-files (courtesy of Skinner). We had plenty of firepower to fight for a long time. We were as prepared as we could possibly be.

And yet when the clock struck midnight, we had our guard down. Our guns had been discarded as we were undressing, and neither of us was focused on the upcoming invasion. Not that any amount of planning would have prepared us for what happened next. We could not have anticipated the next event, could not have planned for anything which occurred after the stroke of midnight.

As soon as the last chime sounded, a brilliant light flashed outside, seeping into the room through the small crack beneath the door. It spread quickly, causing me to turn my head. Horrible memories flashed through my head—memories of my sister's abduction so many years before, memories of my own subsequent abduction, so many memories of horrors that had occurred after similar flashes. I heard Scully cry out and knew immediately that she was remembering her abduction. With no other option, I pulled her closer to my chest, hoping that somehow we could accomplish together what neither of us could accomplish alone.

Chapter 3 (Scully)

I must have passed out at some point in time after the flash of light because the next thing I knew, I was opening eyes to a less intense light pouring into the room. Immediately, I noticed that Mulder was no longer with me; I could not feel his body heat wrapped around me nor feel his heart beating against his chest. Panicked, I sat up straighter, and a soft light blue sheet fell from my body. Glancing around, I realized that I recognized my current surroundings though I had not seen the room in countless years. It was my old bedroom—the one I had on the last base my family had stayed on before I left for college. Everything was exactly how I remembered it, from the white dresser decorated with stenciled butterflies that my mother had painted when I was nine to the light blue curtains hanging around the window that my mother insisted on having to make the place feel more like home.

My first thought was that I was hallucinating. Of course, I had no idea why I would be hallucinating that particular room. The bedroom was not special; I had no fond memories of it. It was just another place where I had slept on a long list of rooms in which I had slept during my childhood because of our frequent moves. I had plenty of fond memories of other places, plenty of other places that I could truly consider home. Most of them involved Mulder who was currently conspicuously absent.

A groan to my left told me that I was not alone in the room. Wondering if Mulder was indeed in the room, I turned my head quickly to discover someone I never thought that I would see again. Her brown hair framed her beautiful face, accenting her delicate features that had stolen the hearts of countless boys over the years. She stretched lazily, opening her eyes slightly to glance at a clock on the table beside her bed. A deep blue color shone through the gap in her eyelids.

"Missy," I breathed, hardly daring to believe my eyes.

"Ten more minutes, Danes, please," she said. "Unlike you, I don't need to be at school freakishly early." She closed her eyes again and started to roll over, but I scrambled out of bed and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. I needed to see her, to touch her and confirm that she was real. And she certainly seemed to be. I could feel the warm flesh of her shoulder beneath the thin material of her nightgown, could see the steady rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. It was definitely Melissa; she might have looked no older than eighteen, but I easily recognized my sister.

"Am I in heaven?" I asked aloud.

This time, only one of Melissa's eyes opened, accompanied by the raise of an eyebrow. "Are you smoking something, Danes?" she questioned. "Because you always told me that that stuff was horrible for your health."

I shook my head slowly, still trying to decipher what was going on. As I moved my head to the right, I caught sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror. What I saw caused a hitch in my breath, and I quickly rose from the bed to approach the mirror and investigate more closely.

I was no longer myself. Correction, I was no longer the forty-eight year old version of myself that I had finally come to accept. I looked as I had when I was sixteen from the smooth, unlined cheeks to the dimples in the corners of my mouth which never truly disappeared but became less endearing as I grew older. My hair was still a brilliant red, my body still lithe and free from pain.

"Did you see a pimple or something?" my sister's groggy voice asked from behind me. I turned to her, still rubbing a hand against the smooth skin of my cheek in disbelief. "You shouldn't rub it," Melissa told me, yawning as she sat up straighter in bed. "You should know that, Dr. Scully."

"Melissa, how old am I?" I questioned.

Melissa's eyes narrowed as she studied me curiously. "Is this some kind of quiz?"

"That's exactly what it is," I lied, hoping to get an answer out of her.

"You're fifteen. Your birthday is February 23, 1964."

"So that would make it 1979," I reasoned. "Which would mean you're eighteen."

Melissa regarded me suspiciously, obviously wondering if I was attempting to trick her. "Actually, I'm still seventeen. My birthday's not until next month. It's only September 18."

"Oh. Okay." I turned back to the mirror, attempting to process all the information. I could still see Missy's eyes regarding me with concern. Finally, I turned and left the room, attempting to escape the unwavering gaze in any way that I could.

When I entered the kitchen, I saw my mother standing in her customary place by the stove. The savory scent in the air told me that she was likely cooking bacon, a staple breakfast in our house while I was growing up. Of course, it was always accompanied by fruit of some kind. My mother insisted on healthy eating.

"Dana, good, I was beginning to worry. You're usually up before this time," my mother said, glancing up at me from the frying pan. "Go ahead and grab what you want. I assume Missy will be down in a few minutes."

"Uh. . . yeah. She should be." I walked over to the sink, stopping for a moment as I tried to recall where we had kept the plates in this particular house. Unfortunately, I did not have Mulder's eidetic memory, and I knew recalling this fact would be virtually impossible. Before I could start inconspicuously opening cabinets to find the elusive dishes, my mother stepped in to save me.

"I got plates out already. They're over there." My mother pointed to the edge of the counter where a stack of four plastic plates sat. This stack told me two things: 1, my father was currently off at sea, an all-too-common occurrence while I was growing up, and 2, my oldest brother, Bill, was already at college.

"Thanks, Mom," I said, grabbing the plate from the top of the stack and walking over to the still-sizzling bacon. I felt as if I was living in a dream world. Everything seemed completely unreal, and I kept expecting to wake up and find myself in an alien ship with probes extruding from every orifice. The thought of this caused an involuntary shiver to travel down my spine, something which did not escape the eagle eyes of Margaret Scully.

"Are you okay, Dana?" she asked, turning to face me fully. Her brown eyes were filled with concern for me, and I forced a smile to allay her fears though my mind was racing with concerns of my own.

"I'm fine, Mom," I assured her.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Melissa said, shuffling into the kitchen. Even with sleep-tousled hair and a loose-fitting nightgown, she still appeared stunning. I had always envied her for her seemingly effortless beauty, and I felt the familiar twinge of jealousy work its way to the forefront of my brain. Immediately, I suppressed this feeling. I should have been happy to have her back. It was not the time to be concerned with petty issues like beauty. I had to figure out what had happened. And I instinctively knew that to do that, I would have to find Mulder.

"She's been acting strange all morning," Melissa continued, taking the next plate from the stack and beginning to fill it. "She actually asked me her age and then confirmed the date with me. It was weird."

"Are you sure you're not sick, Dana?" my mother asked me, leaning forward to press the back of her hand against my forehead.

"Just a little tired," I lied, pulling away from her hand after a couple seconds. Taking my plate to the table, I sat down and began to eat, ignoring the concerned looks that both my mother and my sister continued to shoot in my direction.

Luckily, both were distracted by the rather loud arrival of the youngest member of the Scully clan. Some quick math told me that Charlie had just turned twelve, and he certainly looked the part. He had the same red hair as all of us; his was cut close to his head, a cut that he insisted upon to mimic his father and older brother, both of whom he greatly admired. His cheeks were covered with freckles, and his blue eyes, so similar to my own, were clouded with sleep. He wore plaid pajama bottoms and a stained grey shirt. My mother continued to buy him new pajama shirts, but he always managed to stain them within the first week, so she eventually gave up.

"What's for breakfast?" he questioned, his words partially muffled by a wide yawn.

"Bacon, toast, and oranges," my mother announced, pointing to the food items spread out across the counter. "You have to eat some of everything."

"Yes, ma'am." Manners had been instilled in all of us early on; our parents were ma'am and sir more often than not, and we addressed most strangers with the same titles of respect. Even though he was twelve and rambunctious, Charlie still had certain manners which kept him relatively in line.

Breakfast was quiet, mainly because I was unsure of what to say and the rest of the family was too tired to say anything. Neither Melissa nor Charlie were morning people; it had always been Bill and I who could wake up at early hours of the morning and immediately feel wide-awake. In fact, this trait was one of the main things which allowed me to complete medical school.

When we finished eating, I disappeared into the room Missy and I shared, quickly finding an outfit from my closet. The clothes seemed strange and foreign, but they fit me well, and as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I easily recognized my past self. The only problem was that my brain was still living in the present.

Chapter 4 (Mulder)

I awoke with a start to find myself lying on something soft. Glancing around, I quickly realized that I was no longer in the shed though the room appeared just as cluttered. I also realized that Scully was no longer with me; she had a distinctive scent that I could sense from a mile away, and I could not currently smell it.

It did not take me long to recognize my surroundings. I was in my old dorm room at college. The sports posters on the walls and the textbooks stacked haphazardly in the corner of the room were both immediate giveaways. Of course, this recognition was followed immediately by a second thought: _Why the hell am I here?_

I pushed myself up in bed, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. A glance at the alarm clock beside my bed told me it was just after 6:30 in the morning. I also caught a glimpse of a second figure in a twin-sized bed on the other side of the room. For a moment, I searched for a name before my excellent memory provided one: Brian Jackson. A physics major, spent much of his time in class or doing work. He was not a jock in any sense of the word; in fact, I had always thought he was a bit of a dork (not that I ever told him this). But he and I got along fairly well during the semester we lived together, mostly because we both kept to ourselves.

Standing up, I approached the mirror, running a hand over the stubble which graced my chin. A calendar hung on the wall next to the mirror; it was open to September 1979. With my mind racing, I attempted to remember where I was at that time. It would have been my second year at Oxford. I was likely training for basketball season (which was probably the reason I was up at such an ungodly hour). I was dating Phoebe. . .

Shaking these thoughts from my hand, I glanced at the mirror, not surprised to find my eighteen-going-on-nineteen-year-old self staring back. So it seemed I had somehow traveled through time—or, more precisely, my mind had traveled through time, leaving my fifty-one year old body behind to occupy my much younger one. I could not conceive why it had happened, but I had no doubt that it had. After all, time travel was considerably less strange than other things which had happened to me over the years.

Turning from the mirror, I approached the closet I remembered as mine (the basketball posters on its door were also a dead giveaway). Pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, I donned these articles of clothing and left for my morning run, knowing that exercise was a sure way to start my mind working so that I could figure out how I had arrived in the present situation.

As I traversed the campus I had not seen in countless years, many of my college memories came flooding back. Looking back, I realized I was rather stupid in college; in fact, I was slightly surprised that I had survived it. Of course, I now had a chance to change everything that had happened. When I had speculated about the difference a single decision could make, I did not expect to actually have a chance to test out my theories, but it seemed that I would have such a chance.

I quickly realized that my eighteen-year-old body was considerably more amenable to exercise than my fifty-one-year-old one had been. I ran hard for forty-five minutes, returning to my dorm slightly winded but without the pain to which I had become accustomed. It was nice to be able to run again without worrying about the effects of aging. I had not been able to run that way for years.

Once I had showered and changed into clean clothes, my roommate was awake, gathering his books for classes that day. With a jolt, I realized that I did not know what my schedule for the day was like. I had no idea what classes I was taking much less what times I had to be there. Luckily, Brian came to my rescue. "You better get going, Mulder, or we're going to be late for math."

"Sure. I'm coming." Grabbing the bag that I recognized as mine even after all these years, I followed him out the door.

The building in which we had math was a large stone structure that I remembered well. It had long, empty hallways which we had discovered were excellent for skateboarding during my freshman year. One of my friends was fairly adept at picking locks (I had actually picked up the skill from him), so we had access to just about every building after hours. This access allowed us to enjoy certain pastimes we could not otherwise enjoy—such as skateboarding down the hallways or filling the offices of various professors with balloons.

When I walked into the classroom, a couple guys waved me over to a small group of seats near the back. Their long legs and muscular frames immediately told me that they were members of the basketball team, and it did not take me long to remember their names once I deduced this fact. Greeting them by name, I took a seat beside the taller one, our starting forward who stood at nearly 6'8" and could dunk without even thinking about it.

As we began to talk, my vision suddenly went black as two warm hands covered my eyes. My knee-jerk reaction was to reach behind me and remove the hands from my eyes in any way possible, but I suppressed this reaction with some difficulty, realizing that at this point in time in my life, not everyone I met was working against me. A familiar voice remarked, "Guess who?"

"Phoebe," I said, turning to face her. Her hands dropped from my eyes, and she took the seat behind me, leaning forward so she could place her arms on the back of my chair. She looked younger than I remembered, but her perceived youthfulness could have something to do with the fact that my mind was still fifty-one years old. She still had the soft brown hair that I remembered, the same brilliant blue eyes, and the same tall, elegant figure . She truly was stunning, and it was no wonder that I had fallen so hard for her while in college. But I was older now—in mind at least—and certainly wiser.

"I missed you last night, pet," she cooed into my ear. One of the things I hated about Phoebe: her insistence on using ridiculous pet names, usually spoken in some tone of voice she believed was sexy or sultry but which usually made her sound like an idiot. And she was certainly not an idiot. Phoebe was one of the smartest women I had met (though Scully easily had her beat). Her only problem was that she used her intelligence to manipulate people. Mostly men like me.

"I had stuff to do," I replied gruffly, turning back to the front of the room to face the teacher who had recently entered.

Phoebe was nothing if not persistent. Turning her head, she let her breath wash across my ear, an action which had likely reduced the insides of plenty of men (including, at one point in time in the distant past, me) to jelly. "Are we on for tonight?" she questioned softly.

"We'll talk about that later," I replied in a tone of voice which I hope conveyed the fact that I wanted the conversation to be over. Luckily, Phoebe seemed to receive the message, for she sat back in her seat. I could almost sense her small satisfied smile, for she believed she had gotten to me once again.

After class, extensive searching of my bag produced a rather crumpled but still readable schedule that informed me that I did not have another class for an hour. "Phoebe, can we talk?" I called to her. She had waited across the small grassy field, likely hoping to hear me affirm that we were on for that night. Of course, not even Phoebe Green always gets what she wants.

"I was thinking we could go off campus for dinner tonight, love," she said as she approached me. "Then we could go back to my room for some. . . recreational activities. My roommate's gone for the weekend."

"Actually, Phoebe, I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh." Her smile faded slightly but returned quickly. "How about tomorrow night then? I know of a good club not too far from here."

"I don't just mean tonight's not going to work. I mean this relationship in general is not going to work."

"What?"

Sometimes even intelligent people can be rather dense. "I'm breaking up with you."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't what I want." _Because I'm in love with someone else. Have been for years, actually. _Of course, I did not voice these thoughts aloud, knowing they would only lead to questions that I was not prepared to answer.

"Well, what do you want? Because I can always-"

"No, Phoebe, you can't."

"I don't understand."

"I don't want to date you anymore."

"Why?"

"Good God, are we going to talk in circles all day?"

"I just want a reason, love."

"Because you do that."

"What?"

"Call me by those stupid pet names. There's your reason."

"That's just a habit. I can always stop."

"Phoebe, just let it go." And with no other option, I simply walked away. I had not expected the break up to be quite so difficult, but in retrospect, I should have known it would not proceed smoothly. Phoebe Green was the type of girl that every guy longed to date. I doubted that anyone had ever broken up with her before.

I half-expected her to follow me, but she seemed to be too shocked to be capable of movement. Walking quickly, I managed to turn the corner before she started moving, and I lost myself in a small crowd of students exiting a nearby building. Turning a second corner, I found myself directly in front of a payphone and began digging through the pockets of my jeans for change. Before I inserted the quarters, however, I remembered the time difference and quickly checked my watch. It was around 2:00 in the morning in California—too early to call. With a sigh, I replaced the coins in my pocket and started off for my dorm room to complete some work before my next class.

Between classes and basketball practice, I did not have a chance to call Scully until nearly 8:00 that night—at which time she was likely already in school. And so I waited until midnight that night to call. I was anxious to call, for I knew that talking to Scully would put everything that had happened in perspective, just as it always did. And so I spent the last hour before I called repeatedly tapping my pencil against the desk, thoroughly annoying my roommate. He finally left after thirty minutes of the constant sound (he had always been nonconfrontational), but instead of stopping, my tapping simply increased in volume.

It was not until I had the phone in my hand and was dialing the operator that I finally relaxed. Scully would pick up; I was sure of this. I was also sure that together, we could puzzle out what had occurred and why. Fortunately, I had heard enough stories of Scully's childhood to recall the name of the base on which her father was stationed at the time, so it did not take long for the operator to connect me. Just after the second ring, I heard a click as someone picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Maggie said. I nearly greeted her by name but stopped myself just in time.

"May I please speak to Dana?" I questioned.

"Can I ask who's calling?"

"Fox Mulder."

She seemed satisfied with this answer, for I heard the muffled sound of the phone being placed on a table as she left to find Scully. In another minute, I heard the unmistakable sound of the phone being picked up once more. "Mulder?"

I did not realize until that moment exactly how much I had been looking forward to hearing her voice again. As soon as I heard my name uttered in her voice (which was admittedly slightly different than I remembered but nevertheless recognizable), I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I was okay. "Hey, Scully."

"God, it really is you."

"No, it's the other guy who calls you Scully and himself Mulder."

"I'll talk to him, too, if he can explain what the hell is going on here."

"Now I'm hurt, Scully."

"Mulder, what happened?"

"Well, you haven't lost your one-track mind I see. I think we traveled through time."

I could feel her glare even though thousands of miles separated us. "Thank you for that wonderful hypothesis, Mulder. Do you have any idea how or why?"

I paused for a moment, moving the piece of gum I chewed from one side of my mouth to another. I had thought a lot about those two questions that day, and I still did not have a satisfactory answer. "Maybe we've been given a second chance," I speculated.

"A second chance to do what?"

"Save the world? I mean, we were talking earlier about how one decision could affect the fate of the entire human population. Maybe we're being given a chance to make the right decision this time."

"Let's say I do believe that. Who gave us this chance?"

"God? They say he works in mysterious ways."

"I've never heard of him moving anyone back through time before."

"Are you going to tell anyone other than me what happened?" When Scully was silent, I continued. "Exactly. You'll never tell anyone anything because it will make you sound crazy. So maybe this has happened to someone else, but they didn't tell anyone so they didn't run the risk of sounding crazy."

"Time travel is impossible, Mulder."

"'For nothing is impossible with God'."

"I didn't know you knew the Bible."

"I'm a man of many talents."

"Even if time travel was theoretically possible, actually travelling through time would cause more problems than you can even imagine. The grandfather paradox, for example."

"We won't have to worry about that one Scully since we're already born."

"But what if something we do now changes our lives in the future?"

"I believe that is the point, Scully."

"Whose point, Mulder?"

"Look, this is probably a discussion that is best had in person."

"That's going to be hard to do when you're in England and I'm in California."

"Trust me, I'll find a way." I smiled slightly to myself, knowing Scully would spend hours trying to determine how I would do this. Before she could ask me, I continued, "So how was your day?"

"Not bad. I had forgotten how easy high school was." She paused, and I remained silent, instinctively knowing that she had more to say. Finally, she continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you."

I understood how hard it had been for her to make that confession. And so I did not make light of the situation, did not make one of my customary jokes. Instead, I simply said, "I missed you, too. More than you can imagine." I was completely serious, and this gravity could be heard clearly in my voice.

"It's a bit sad that we can't go one day without seeing each other," she remarked. It seemed we had switched roles; she was now the one making the jokes. We had both confessed our true feelings, and this was as much as we could reasonably expect. Returning to our traditional light-hearted flirting was only natural.

"Well, my day was not quite that good. College is actually slightly difficult, especially Oxford. I have finished my work for the weekend though. And I also broke up with my girlfriend today."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Phoebe. Short dark hair, green eyes, two small horns on the sides of her head. You might remember her."

Her soft laugh was like music to my ears. "I remember how completely wrapped up in her you were twenty years ago."

"That was twenty years ago. And I was stupid."

"You'll get no argument from me there."

"Thanks for your support."

At that moment, the annoying voice came onto the line telling me that I needed to deposit more change to continue the conversation. Exasperatedly, I dug through my pockets until I found the desired coins and shoved them rather hastily into the slot. I missed slightly on one of them, and the coin bounced to the ground. "Shit," I muttered as I heard the jingle as it landed in some dark corner.

"You okay, Mulder?" Scully questioned.

"Yeah. I just dropped a quarter. That's okay. I've got plenty. I thought this would be a long conversation."

"Isn't it past midnight there?"

"I'm an insomniac, remember?"

"You still need sleep, Mulder."

"What I really need right now is to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Everything? Nothing? I don't really care."

"You know, there is some quantum-mechanical phenomena which seem to allow for travel faster than the speed of light which would effectively allow one to travel to the past. Some particles seem to exchange information instantaneously to maintain correlations. Einstein called this 'spooky action at a distance'."

"See, Scully, I knew you could find the right thing to say to put me to sleep."

"Fine, if you don't want to hear this, I'll just stop talking."

"No, continue. It's vaguely interesting."

"Only vaguely?"

"Extremely interesting. Certainly more interesting than anything any of my professors said in class today. Of course, it would be more interesting if I was actually there with you while you were lecturing. I'd like to see you."

"No, you wouldn't. I was rather awkward at sixteen. Or rather, I am very awkward at sixteen."

"You were beautiful."

"You don't know that."

"I've seen pictures."

"Pictures don't tell the whole story."

"They tell a thousand words' worth, and that's enough for me."

We talked for the next hour, usually about nothing in particular though sometimes Scully would bring up some interesting fact she knew about time travel and we would debate the point for awhile. Of course, I should have expected her interest in this phenomenon; after all, she was a physics major.

Eventually, my quarters ran out, and I was forced to say goodbye to Scully. I returned to my room in a considerably better mood than I had left it in. My roommate was already snoring loudly in his bed, but I did not mind the noise. After sleeping for so many years with the television on, snoring did not bother me. Once I pulled off my clothes, I slipped into bed in my boxers, ready for a relatively restful night of sleep after which I could hopefully figure out what had happened.

Chapter 5 (Scully)

I heard from Mulder twice more over the next week, but we unfortunately did not come any closer to figuring out what had happened to us. I was slowly adjusting to being sixteen again, but the adjustment was taking a good deal more time than I had initially expected. It had taken me some time to remember my friends' names on the first day since I had not seen them in so long, and all the gossip was completely foreign to me. It did not help that I had been fairly isolated over the last few years with mostly Mulder for company. And while I did not mind having only Mulder for company for extended periods of time, he had a unique personality that made talking to him very different from speaking to anyone else.

On Thursday, I was gathering a couple of books from my locker for my first two classes. For once, my friends had not accosted me as soon as I entered the building, so I was free to lose myself in my own thoughts instead of searching through my mind for the identity of people they described. Because I was concentrated on puzzling out how we could have traveled through time, I was not paying much attention to my surroundings. As I closed my locker, I heard a voice which startled me more than anything had all week.

"You look very pensive there, Scully," Mulder remarked. I turned to face him fully, knowing that my mouth was hanging open in an unattractive manner. But I was too surprised to have the presence of mind to close it immediately, so I spent a few moments with my jaw dropped.

"Mulder, what are you doing here?" I questioned once I had regained full control of my mouth.

"I came to see you," he said, shrugging. As he executed this simple action, I allowed my eyes to travel his body. He certainly looked younger; his soft, brown hair had no hint of grey, and his face was smooth. He still had an impressive array of muscles though this seemed only natural given the amount of time he spent exercising. His movements now were more graceful and smooth, reminding me more of how he looked when we first met so long ago. I wondered briefly why he had not had more relationships in his life; after all, he looked like the man every girl dreamed of dating.

"Why?" I finally asked, bringing my eyes back to his familiar green ones. Though he may have been younger, his eyes remained the same.

"I told you that we needed to talk about what happened in person."

"I didn't realize that meant you were going to fly across the world."

"Did you not want me here?"

"Of course not. I'm just surprised. Don't you have school and basketball?"

"I told coach that I was going to take a couple days off practice for personal reasons. Since our season doesn't technically start for another month, he let me go. As for school, I've worked my way ahead, so I can take off for a couple days without getting behind. Anyway, neither of those things is important right now. We need to figure out what happened to us and why."

I nodded in agreement, still amazed to see him standing there. As I stared at him, I heard the sound of the bell ringing, indicating that I had two minutes to reach my first class. But my legs did not seem to want to move, so I remained rooted to the spot, my eyes still locked on him. As we stood there, his head cocked to one side. "I never did give you a proper greeting, did I?" And before I knew it, his lips were on mine, and his tongue was exploring my mouth. Suddenly, it did not matter that we had traveled thirty-three years into the past. We were still Scully and Mulder, and we were still together. Age made no difference.

We finally broke apart to the ringing of the second bell. The hallways were empty by that time, and Mulder glanced around with a smile. "Did I break your perfect attendance record?" he questioned, turning back to me.

My euphoria over seeing him again put me in an unusually playful mood. "Actually, Jimmy Kirk broke it last week," I informed him.

"Really?" His eyebrows arched as a lazy smile spread over his face. "Well, I'll just have to work on making you the latest to class. Or maybe I should just ensure that that you miss your class entirely." He started to lean forward again, but I stopped him with a firm hand on his chest.

"I do need to get to class, Mulder."

"I thought you said high school was easy."

"I'd still like to graduate. And unfortunately, that requires going to class."

"Missing one class won't kill you."

"I have a test today."

"That's what make-ups are for."

"I'll see you later, Mulder. Then we can talk."

"Fine, Scully. Break my heart." His wide grin told me that he was not serious; in fact, he rarely was. I shook my head at him as I turned and walked away, ignoring the overly dramatic pleas for me to return.

An hour later, I walked out of the classroom considerably sleepier but no more well-informed about biology. A couple of my friends walked beside me, chatting about the most recent break-ups, and I gave the occasional nod to show I was listening. As I walked through the doorway, I heard Mulder's voice again. "Boo!"

I jumped; I admit it. Even though I should have expected him to be waiting for me when I left the classroom, the sudden noise still startled me. "Mulder, I thought I told you that I have classes."

"Play hooky."

"No."

"Spoilsport. Come on, Scully, it'll be fun. I promise."

"People will notice if I'm gone, Mulder."

"So?"

"So I need to be here so no one becomes suspicious. My mother and sister already think I'm acting strangely; if I start skipping class, they'll know something's up."

"You're a teenager, Scully. They should expect that something's always up. Now, come on, let's live a little."

"Mulder, I don't know if you know the real definition of living a little. Your idea of fun is visiting sites of supposed alien abductions."

"Which reminds me, there's a place only about an hour or so from here with three different people who claim to have been abducted."

"No, Mulder."

"But maybe they can tell us something to stop the invasion."

"The invasion doesn't occur for thirty-three years, Mulder."

"But they're already planning it. They're working on the vaccine as we speak."

"How do you propose we stop them?"

"I don't know, but maybe this is the reason we're here."

"Look, Mulder, I think this is best discussed later. Right now, I have class."

"Fine, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes, go to class. I'll see you at later."

I had to admit, he was true to his word. I walked out of the classroom to find him once more waiting for me. This time, he held a book in his hands entitled _Human Psychology_. With eyebrows raised, I approached the corner where he sat, wedged between two sections of lockers. "Are you just going to follow me to all my classes for the rest of the day and wait there until I come out?" I questioned.

"Possibly. But I am getting work done." He indicated the open book which looked to be halfway finished. "There's an interesting section in here on belief in supernatural phenomena. Evidently, this is evidence that I 'feel inadequate and thus need to believe in something beyond myself'."

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Feel inadequate?"

"Only at the shooting range with you."

Before we could continue the conversation, a voice behind me remarked, "So, Dana, are you going to introduce us to your friend?"

I turned to face Kristen who had been one of my best friends through high school. She was a couple years older than me, but since I was ahead in school, we were in the same grade. Her father was also in the navy, stationed at the same base that my father was, so we had common ground on which we could relate. For the most part, she was down-to-earth; for this reason, we got along fairly well. She had wanted to pursue a career in journalism, so we had ended up at very different colleges. Though we had attempted to keep in touch through college, fate had different plans, and I did not see her again after leaving high school.

"Right. Kristen, this is Fox Mulder, but he goes by Mulder. Mulder, this is Kristen."

"You never told me you were dating anyone," Kristen remarked, viewing Mulder with suspicion as if afraid that he had somehow tricked me.

"It's a relatively. . . recent occurrence," I lied. _Only if you consider twenty years recent. Or rather, thirteen, since you spent the first seven acting rather idiotic. And then those other two were wasted. . . _

I forced my mind to stop musing before it went too far off track. Kristin had seemed to accept that Mulder was not a mad-axe murderer, and she extended a hand which he accepted. As his hand slid from hers, he turned back to me. "So, is it lunchtime now? I'm starving."

"You know you could have gone to eat somewhere anytime. There's plenty of fast food places around," I pointed out.

"I could have, but I would much rather eat with you." His green eyes sparkled as he looked at her, and she shook her head at him. His only response was to place his hand on the small of her back as she led the way to the cafeteria. No matter where or when they were, some things never changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 6 (Mulder)

I walked through the crowded hallway with Scully and Kristen, my hand never leaving the warms spot on Scully's back. Over the years, this simple gesture had come to mean so much for the both of us. I used it to show Scully that I was there for her, that I would support her no matter what. It was a physical link between us, one that reminded both of us that we were not alone in the world.

As we walked, I remained silent, allowing Scully and Kristen to carry on their conversation about one of their classes without interruption. I knew Scully would comment on my unusual reticence later, but I honestly had nothing to say at the moment. I was happy to simply observe. It had been awhile since I seen Scully as lighthearted as she seemed at that moment. Our last few years had been fraught with horrible speculation about what might occur on December 22nd, with fear that we and the rest of the world would not have too much longer to live, and with a sense of hopelessness and despair. There were very few things to be happy about in our bleak lives. It was nice to see Scully smile again, to watch the dimples form in her cheeks (I knew she hated them, but I found them rather endearing), to see her crystal blue eyes so full of life. I knew that she wanted to discuss what had happened in hopes of fixing it, but I believed there was nothing to fix. We were exactly where we were supposed to be.

By the time we reached the cafeteria line, my stomach was growling, and I felt hungry enough that even the goo they tried to pass of as food looked appetizing. Scully, naturally, picked up a salad from a tray as I selected a burger and fries, hoping that it would not be as rubbery as I recalled school food being. "I don't see why you insist on eating that healthy crap all the time, Scully," I remarked.

"It's good for you," she informed me, adding a cup of fruit to her plate. After a moment's deliberation, she added one to my tray, too. I thought of putting it back, but one look at her face told me that I would be wise not to do so. She was determined to have me eat that fruit, and I knew from experience that if Scully was determined to do something, it would be done.

"So is fiber but you don't see me chewing on my test papers."

"Paper has a number of chemicals besides fiber that you probably should not ingest in large quantities," Scully informed me.

"Thank you, Dr. Scully." Just to spite her, I selected an ice cream from the small freezer beside the cashier's station. She opened her mouth to object but seemed to think better of it. Closing her mouth again, she approached the cashier and paid for her food. With some satisfaction, I also paid for my meal and followed her to a small, round table in one corner. As I sat down, I happened to glance at my ice cream and noticed for the first time that it was sugar and fat free.

"Finally noticed, did you?" Scully questioned.

"I bet it tastes like cardboard," I muttered as I pushed it to one side. "You want it?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

Kristen sat down beside Scully also carrying a salad. "I think these lines get worse and worse every day," she remarked.

"Try eating in Oxford's cafeteria at anytime between noon and two in the afternoon," I remarked, squirting ketchup onto my burger.

"You go to Oxford?" Kristen asked.

"Uh-huh," I answered over a mouthful of burger. I was relieved to find that it was not rubbery, but it was overcooked. "I'm a sophomore now," I said as I swallowed.

"What are you doing here then?"

"I came to see Sc-Dana," I corrected, knowing most people would find it strange if I called my "girlfriend" by her last name.

"You flew all the way over here just to see Dana?" Her tone seemed skeptical.

"What can I say? I like her."

Scully gave me her patented look, but I simply flashed her a cheeky smile before returning to my burger. "How did you two meet anyway?"

I glanced at Scully, silently telling her that she could handle this one and I would play along. Luckily, she seemed to have anticipated the question, for she was able to lie smoothly. "You remember that research I did this past summer at Harvard?" she questioned. Kristen nodded. "Well, Mulder also happened to be there to do research of his own, and we ran into each other one day at the bookstore. He'd been to Harvard before, so he offered to show me around some, and we hit it off."

"You met him this summer, and you didn't tell me about him until now? I thought you said this was a recent occurrence."

"We didn't start officially going out until a couple weeks ago," I said before Scully could speak. "I was too chicken to ask her out before." My eyes met hers, and the message in the sparkling blue orbs was clear: "You bet you were chicken."

"So, Oxford boy, what are you studying?"

"Psychology," I answered.

"Psychology? What do you plan on doing once you graduate?"

"You sound like my mother," I quipped, polishing off my hamburger with another large bite. After I swallowed, I continued speaking. "Truthfully, I'm not quite sure what I want to do except get as far away from my family as possible. I'm thinking of going to graduate school and then maybe going into research."

"Academia, huh?"

"There's nothing wrong with academia," I defended.

"I'm not saying there is. I'm just saying that you don't seem like the academic type."

"I was unaware that there was an academic type."

"You know what I mean."

"Do I now?"

"Well, if you really are a psychologist you would."

"How about we talk about something else?" Scully suggested, ever the pacifist. Kristen seemed reluctant to let the topic rest, and I, too, was curious what else she thought about me, but we both let Scully steer the conversation onto more neutral ground where it stayed for the rest of lunch.

After lunch, Kristen left us to make her way to her class on the opposite side of campus. Since Scully did not have far to go to make it to her next class, we walked relatively slowly through the hallways. "I'm going to go do some digging for the rest of the afternoon," I informed her as we walked.

"Digging for what?" I looked at her, and my eyes clearly conveyed what I would be looking for. "Mulder, you don't know that you'll find her."

"It's 1979, Scully. She's still alive. We found her diary."

"But you don't know where she is."

"April Air Force Base."

"Mulder-"

"Don't 'Mulder' me, Scully. If it was your sister, wouldn't you do whatever you could to get her back?" Scully was silent, and I knew she was thinking of how she had lost Melissa in her previous life only to gain her back in this one. I knew she would have done anything to have one more hour with Melissa, and she would certainly not deny me this same opportunity.

"Find, Mulder, but I'm going with you."

"Then let's go." I pointed to a nearby door which led to the back parking lot where I had earlier parked the car one of my friends in California had loaned me. Scully glanced in the direction I was pointing and sighed.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?"

"I knew you wouldn't let me down, Scully."

"One of these days, I'm going to say no, Mulder."

"You haven't yet, so I think I'll push my luck."

"Let me go call my mother first and tell her I'm staying over at a friend's house."

"If you must." I watched her go to find the nearest pay phone, leaning casually against the doorframe. I felt at home again for the first time in awhile. This was familiar stomping ground for me—investigating. And for the first time in awhile, I was feeling hopeful. I had a chance to find my sister—the first real chance I had had in years. Not only that, but I was still alive. The world had not ended. In my book, that was reason enough to celebrate.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 7 (Scully)

It took me a couple minutes to find the pay phone, and after I had called, I spent a couple more minutes dodging hall monitors as I made my way back to Mulder. I found him in the same position he had been in when I left—leaning against the wall beside the door, his arms and legs both crossed in front of him. I could tell he was lost in thought by the faraway look in his eyes which were currently focused on the floor a few feet in front of him. Because he was not paying attention to his surroundings, I managed to come within a few feet of him without him noticing my presence. When he did, he recoiled for a moment, reaching to his waist for the gun which was no longer present.

"Relax, Mulder, it's me," I told him. Immediately, his muscles loosened, and his hands dropped casually to his side.

"Old habits die hard," he said by way of explanation.

"Trust me, I know," I said.

"Ready to go?" he questioned. I nodded, and he turned, opening the door for me. I did not even have to duck to pass under his arm and out the doorway, but our height difference had ensured that this was always true. After he had also walked outside, he walked to my side, placing his hand in its customary place on my back. Using the gentle pressure of his hand, he led me to a black Ford in the back of the parking lot. The warmth of his hand left my back briefly as he reached into his pocket for the keys. I walked to the passenger's side of the car, waiting until he opened the driver's door and reached across to unlock the passenger's door.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, I broached the topic that we had been avoiding for the entire week. "So, Mulder, what happened? And I want a better answer than 'We traveled through time'."

"I don't have a better answer."

"You have to have some theory as to how it happened."

"You're the scientist. Shouldn't you be the one with the theory?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Mulder, this is beyond the realm of science."

"So you admit that science can't explain everything then."

"I admit that we don't fully understand everything yet."

"Well, in answer to your first question, I stick by what I said earlier. I think we've been given a second chance."

"But why us? Why can't someone else save the world?"

He shrugged. "We already know what's going to happen. Actually, we probably know more about it that anyone else except perhaps the conspirators behind it all, and I doubt they're going to suddenly have a change of heart and decide to save the world anytime soon."

"So we're supposed to save the world? That's a pretty tall order."

"I never said it was going to be easy."

"How exactly are we supposed to go about doing this?"

"One day at a time," he answered, turning his attention to the road. I fell silent, allowing him to navigate through the relatively heavy traffic without interruption. As I watched out the window, I could not help but wonder why the fate of the world always seemed to rest on our shoulders.

We made good time to the military base where Mulder had found his sister's handprint so many years before (or was it actually a number of years in the future? I did not know what constituted my past and what constituted my future any longer). It was dusk, and the low light cast odd shadows across the ground in front of us as we pulled up in front of the gate. The base looked deserted; I did not see a single car or sign of life anywhere. The trees around us flapped lazily in the light wind, shedding their leaves which floated slowly to the ground.

Mulder pulled the car off to the side in a copse of trees which hid it fairly well from anyone passing on the road. "This is it," he announced needlessly, shutting off the car and exiting. The wind swirled around us, giving the air a slight chill. I shivered involuntarily as we approached the tall, metal gates with a sign declaring that we were at April Base and another warning unauthorized personnel to stay off the premises. Naturally, we ignored this warning. Mulder cast a quick look around before squatting down, his hands cupped together in front of him. Immediately, I knew what he wanted, and I walked over, placing my foot carefully in his clasped hands and my hand on his shoulder for support. He stood, lifting me easily into the air, and I reached for the top of the fence. Grabbing the fence, I started to pull myself over. It was a bit of the struggle; since I had not yet decided to join the FBI, I had not started the rigorous exercise that had become commonplace for me during later years, and I could feel the strain in my arms as I pulled myself up. Still, with some help from Mulder, I managed to struggle over the fence.

Once Mulder saw that I had safely landed on the ground on the other side, he reached up and grabbed a couple of the fence links, using them as handholds to pull himself up. Since he had been active throughout college, he was in excellent physical condition, and it was not long before he pulled himself over the fence and was standing beside me. "Come on. This way," he whispered.

I followed him, knowing that with his photographic memory, he could likely tell me exactly how many feet we had to walk in each direction. We strode quickly down the streets, staying on the side behind bushes, relying on the dim light and the shadows from the vegetation around us to conceal our figures as we walked. In a few minutes, Mulder stopped, staring at the sidewalk. Glancing down, I saw the familiar small handprint labeled with his sister's name. He crouched over, running his fingers gently over the contours of the hand in the cement with a certain reverence. I watched his eyes take on a faraway look as he stared at the handprint. After a few seconds, he stood again, tearing his gaze away from the print. With a slight nod in my direction, he started toward the house.

I noticed immediately that it looked just as deserted as it had the last time we had been there. I could not imagine that anyone could possibly be living there much less two children. But I nevertheless followed Mulder up the overgrown walkway toward the front door. I might not have believed, but, as always, Mulder had faith enough for the both of us.

We did not make it all the way to the front door. A familiar voice stopped us before we had reached it. "You're not going to find her here," the man remarked, stepping out of the shadows. His voice was low and gravelly, almost like a truck rumbling down a bumpy country road.

Mulder turned, and I saw him reach for the older man's neck. However, the cigarette-smoking bastard simply stepped out of the way of Mulder's groping hands. I saw Mulder's hand drop to his waist where his gun would usually rest, but he came up empty-handed. "There's no need for violence, son," Spender remarked, flicking a bit of ash off of his lit cigarette. He had stepped partially into the light from the setting sun, making it easier for me to see him.

"Actually, I believe the situation certainly warrants violence," Mulder growled.

"You can't change her fate, Mulder. That's not what you were sent here to do."

"I won't accept that. I know she's still alive. There's got to be something I can do."

"There's nothing." He flicked the butt of his cigarette to the side and stepped closer to Mulder. As his face passed beneath the light, I saw the countenance of a man we had both come to despise. He was younger; his hair was still partially brown, and only a few lines crossed his face, but the features were no different. It was CGB Spender; I had no doubt about that. "She has to die. That's what's meant to be. Even you can't play with destiny."

"I have to do something."

"Actually, you have to do nothing. If you try looking for her at all before you graduate, I will find out, and I will have her killed. Slowly."

"You son of a bitch, you-"

"Trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart. You can't be looking for Samantha. There are other things you need to do."

I could not help it; my curiosity simply got the better of me. "Like what?"

Spender turned to me, lighting a new cigarette. "That, Agent Scully, is for you to discover." He saw us both react at the title, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Yes, I know. You don't think you're the only ones privileged enough to remember, do you? I've actually been waiting here for a couple days now. I'm surprised at you, Agent Mulder. I expected you earlier."

"Plane tickets were harder to come by than I thought," Mulder remarked between gritted teeth. The tone of his voice and stiffness of his stance told me that he still wanted to kill Spender.

"Yes, well, everything is harder when you don't work for the government."

"Why are we here?" I questioned.

Spender looked at me, his lips still quirked slightly. "To save the world," he answered simply. And then he laughed. It was a low grumble that I thought would be better suited for a lawn mower engine than a laugh. When the laughter ceased after a few seconds, he took a long draw on his cigarette before remarking, "I wish you the best of luck, agents. I truly do." And then he was gone before either of us had the chance to ask another question.

Naturally, Mulder still insisted on checking through the house. We found signs of habitation, but the house had likely not been occupied in months. As we left, Mulder took out his frustration on the door, leaving it hanging from the hinges. The drive back was fairly quiet; I knew Mulder was frustrated that even now, his efforts to find his sister were thwarted by Cancer Man.

We stopped at a small mom-and-pop diner for dinner on the way back. While we were waiting for our food, Mulder remarked, "So it seems we do have to save the world, Scully. Lucky us."

"What are we going to do, Mulder?" I inquired.

"Now? Nothing. We have some time. I think right now we both just have to concentrate on getting through school. We can maybe do some digging on Cigarette Smoking Man and his cronies while we're at it, but I doubt we'll find anything. I have a feeling that even now, they're well-hidden."

"Have you thought about going back, Mulder?"

"Back to what? The end of the world? We've been given a second chance, Scully. There's no reason not to take it."

"True. What about your sister?"

Mulder shrugged. "I keep looking. I'll just have to be a bit more discreet about it. But I didn't give up the last time until I knew she was dead, and I don't plan on giving up this time either." Our food arrived at that moment, and we both turned our attention to the burgers in front of us.

When we finally returned, Mulder automatically turned toward the motel where he was staying. As he pulled into the parking lot, he seemed to realize that we were not actually on a case together. "Sorry about that, Scully. I'll just take you home."

"Not yet." He shot me a questioning gaze but still shut off the car and led me to his room. I do not know exactly why I objected to him taking me home; I suspect that a part of me simply did not want to leave him just yet. I always felt comfortable around Mulder. His presence made me feel safe and loved and, as irrational as I knew the feeling was, invulnerable. And so I followed him into the motel room.

When we reached the motel room, Mulder disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a couple minutes later wearing an undershirt and boxers. I had taken off my jacket and shoes and was sitting on the bed with my back against the headboard and my feet spread straight in front of me. Though I was taking up most of the bed, Mulder quickly solved this problem by placing his arms beneath me and lifting me off the comforter, depositing me a couple feet to my left so that he had enough room to sit beside me. Crawling under the covers, he put an arm around my shoulders, allowing me to rest my head comfortably on him.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned.

I looked up at him with a fond smile of remembrance when I heard the question. "This is nice," I said simply, moving closer to him.

"What? Crappy motel rooms? Because I thought you had plenty of those."

"No, not the room. Just the sitting here, together, with no worries or concerns or the threat of doomsday looming over us. It's a pleasant change."

"Everyone always dreams of being young again."

"We might as well enjoy it."

I had not meant to be suggestive. Honestly. Or at least, my conscious mind had not meant to be suggestive; I have no control over what my unconscious does. Mulder, of course, immediately found the double meaning. "And how do you plan on doing that?" He turned to me, his eyebrows arched.

"I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Oh, I think I certainly can." He moved, his hand sliding off my shoulders and onto the mattress to my right. His other hand moved to my opposite side so that he was suspended above me, supported by his arms. His feet lay on either side of mine, and our chests barely brushed as he lowered himself, meeting my lips with his. The kiss was slow and sensual, for we both now felt that we had all the time in the world.

Tongues soon entered the picture, and both our hands began to roam- mine across the broad expanse of his back, still covered by a thin cotton shirt, and his from my shoulders to the curve of my hips. With his fingers, he gently traced the hem of my shirt before moving it upward, allowing his fingers to brush across my skin as it was exposed. Though the touch was not even especially sexual yet, it still caused me to shiver, and I arched my back slightly, bringing my body in closer contact with his. I could feel the grin on his lips at my reaction, and I was tempted to give him a taste of his own medicine, but he was too quick for me. With a dexterity born from years of practice, he shifted his weight to his knees, and used one free hand to support my lower back as he pulled the shirt over my head with the other.

With that impediment out of the way, his fingers began a more thorough exploration of my upper body. He traced languorous spirals around my stomach, allowing them to slowly grow outward until the pads of his fingers were brushing the base of my bra. "No front hook," he remarked, removing his lips briefly from mine.

"Fifteen-year-old Dana had no reason for one," I told him.

"Good." Again, his lips met mine, and he lifted me to unhook my bra, tossing it, too, to the side. Before his lips could follow his hands in their dance across my body, I pushed him gently away.

"Equal partnership, remember?" I reminded him, tugging at the base of his shirt.

"Aye, aye, partner," he agreed, quickly pulling the shirt over his head. I had not realized until that moment how muscled he had been at eighteen. It seems he was not lying all those times he boasted about his excellent athleticism in high school and college. He certainly looked like an athlete. "I'm assuming that bleary eyed look means that you approve of eighteen-year-old Mulder," he remarked cheekily. I hit his chest, noting with some satisfaction that it was hard with muscle.

"Maybe I just think you're hideous," I told him.

"Hideous, huh?" he asked with a grin. Before I knew what was happening, I felt his hands below my waist, unzipping my jeans. "Funny. You seem awfully aroused for hideous," he remarked. I wanted to slap him again, but the feel of his fingers around that part of my body prevented me from doing anything but closing my eyes and letting my head fall back against the pillow with a low moan. "That's what I thought," he remarked. Suddenly, the warmth of his fingers was gone, returning a moment later higher on my body.

"What-" I began, but he cut me off.

"You didn't think I was going to skip to the good part yet, do you?" he questioned. "Oh no, my dear, I was just getting started." And with that characteristic smirk I simultaneously hated and loved, he lowered his lips to my skin again.

Mulder was true to his word; it took him quite awhile to get to the "good part." At first, his slow pace annoyed me, but I quickly realized that, like everything else that Mulder did, he had a reason for taking his time. And when we finally did reach the "good part," it was better than anything I had felt before. One of the things I loved most about Mulder was that he was constantly surprising me. Even though I knew him better than I knew myself, he never ceased to amaze me on a daily basis. He kept our relationship interesting and new, ensuring that I never grew bored of him or us.

Afterwards, we lay in the tangled sheets, sweaty and sated. Mulder was still kissing the back of my neck lightly, and I could not stop myself from giggling at the contact. "Mulder, cut it out," I told him between chuckles.

"Cut what out?" he asked innocently as he stepped up the ferocity of his attack.

"You know very well what."

"Or what?" he questioned.

"Or I'm never going to get to sleep tonight."

"So?"

"So I have school tomorrow."

"So? You graduated the first time, and I have no doubt you'll do it again. Come on, Scully, you're only young once." I rolled my eyes at the statement but nevertheless yielded to his caresses.

The next morning, I woke up to find myself entwined with Mulder; his long, lanky limbs were wrapped around my body, making it difficult for me to move. With some maneuvering, I managed to turn my head so that I could see the clock on the nightstand behind me. The red numbers glowing brightly on the screen caused me to sit straight up in bed, no longer mindful of not waking my partner.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked, his words slightly muffled from sleep.

"We're late, Mulder," I explained, throwing back the covers so that I could climb out of bed and begin collecting my clothes.

"Late for what?" He was sitting up now, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"School."

"Oh." He shrugged, unconcerned, as he rose from the bed, stretching. "So?"

"So I can't be late."

"Why not? It's not like you've never been late before."

"I always had a legitimate excuse."

"You're telling me you never stopped for breakfast with your friends and ended up coming in tardy to school?" he asked.

"And I don't have a change of clothes, so I'm going to have to go to school in the same thing I wore yesterday, and I'm sure Missy'll notice. . ."

"Breathe, Scully," Mulder instructed, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sure it will all be okay in the end. You're not that late yet, so just finish getting dressed, and I'll drive you to school. It's not that far away, so we can even pick up breakfast."

"If I'm tardy, I get a detention and my mother finds out," I pointed out.

"Just tell her you and your friend overslept."

"She won't believe it. My mother has a knack for seeing through lies."

"Then tell her the truth."

"What? That I spent the night with a guy and had wonderful sex?"

"That sounds good to me."

"Mulder, I'm fifteen! Or at least, I'm fifteen as far as my mother is concerned. I'm not supposed to be having sex. I'm supposed to be concentrating on graduating this year so I can go onto college and then to med school."

"Scully, just relax. You'll be fine."

"How can you know that? See, Mulder, this is the problem with what happened. Our bodies are young, but our minds are middle-aged. We think like we're fifty when we should have teenaged concerns."

"Like what? Popularity and whether Billy in fifth period likes you? Personally, I'm glad not to have those concerns. I think it'll make college a lot easier."

"Aren't you worried at all about adjusting?"

He shrugged, his face clearly telling me that he had none of my concerns about our current predicament. "I'll adjust. It may take some time, but I will. And as far as I'm concerned, this situation is much better than the alternative."

In the end, I was just under an hour late for school. I accepted the detention slip without a word, still trying to come up with a good excuse for receiving it. Unfortunately, Mulder's seemed to be the best I could do.

I spent the entire day dreading the conversation with my mother that night. I had a sinking feeling that she would blow the entire thing out of proportion. Though a tardy detention did not seem like much to most people, I had always been the good kid in my family. I did not get into trouble. I did not get detentions of any kind. I knew my mother would wonder why I had the sudden change, and I honestly had no good explanation for her except for the truth—which would likely cause even more suspicion than a lie.

When I reached the house, my mother was waiting for me as always. She was flipping through the newspaper at the kitchen table, but she looked up from her reading as soon as Missy and I walked in the door. "Hey, girls, how was school?" she questioned. Melissa immediately responded with her usual "fine, but I took a deep breath, working up the courage to tell the truth.

"I got a detention," I finally blurted out, simply wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. Missy, who had been ready to leave the room, suddenly turned and moved back to where I was standing.

"Really?" my mother's eyebrows were raised. I could not tell if she was angry or not; her voice had not increased in volume, so I was fairly certain that I was still safe.

"Nat and I overslept this morning, so we got there late. Sorry, Mom. It won't happen again," I lied, praying fervently that she would buy it. Fortunately, God seemed to be in a favorable mood toward me that day.

"Okay. Just make sure this doesn't become a common thing."

"It won't, Mom. You just need to sign this." I passed her the detention slip, and she glanced at it briefly before adorning it with her signature and passing it back to me. Feeling extremely relieved, I followed Missy upstairs to our room. Perhaps Mulder had been right. Maybe I was overreacting.

As soon as we reached our room, Missy closed the door behind us and moved to my desk where I sat, placing her hand on the book I was about to open. "Spill," she instructed simply.

"Spill what?'"

"The truth about why you were late this morning. Mom may have bought your story, but I certainly didn't, especially since I saw Natalie this morning before class."

"There's nothing to tell," I remarked, knowing even as I spoke that my ears were turning red, a clear indication that I was lying. Missy was sure to pick up on this, too.

"You're lying again. There's plenty to tell. So spill or I'm going to tell Mom that I know for a fact you weren't at Natalie's last night."

"Okay, you caught me, I wasn't at Natalie's last night." I hoped this would be enough to appease her, but I knew that this hope was in vain. My sister was not one to be deterred easily.

"Where were you then?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it does. Especially if you were with a guy." I didn't think I reacted to this statement, but I must have because Missy straightened up with a triumphant smile. "I knew it. Were you with the same guy that you were kissing in the hallway yesterday?"

"You saw that?" I asked, wishing Mulder and I had been a little more discreet.

"I didn't, but Marissa did. She said it seemed fairly hot and heavy." I thought about lying again, but I knew Missy would catch me, so I settled on the truth.

"Fine. I was with him."

"Where? His house?"

"He goes to Oxford. He's staying in a motel."

"He took you to a motel? Danes, what have I told you about guys and motels?"

"It's not like that, Missy. You wouldn't understand."

"Trust me, Danes, I understand perfectly. I've been in your situation. You think you love him, so you agree to do what he wants. And then he takes advantage of you. And in some crappy, run-down motel no less."

"He didn't take advantage of me."

"You may think that now, but you'll realize later that he did. How old is this guy anyway, Danes?"

"Eighteen."

"That's too old for you."

"It's three years, Missy."

"But you're only fifteen. At that age, three years is a lot."

"You dated guys five or six years older than you when you were my age."

"And they all took advantage of me because they're older and more experienced."

"Mulder's not like that."

"His name is Mulder? What kind of name is that?"

"It's his last name. He hates his first name. You know what? I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. This is my life, and I'm free to live it like I want. I love Mulder, Missy, and he loves me, too. I would die for him, and I know he feels the same way. You don't meet your soulmate twice."

"Listen to yourself, Dana. This is way too serious for a high school relationship. You should be dating a variety of people and having fun not bogging yourself down with a serious boyfriend."

"Look, Missy, you can't understand. What Mulder and I have is. . . unique. You have to trust me when I say that I have tried the whole dating thing, but it just doesn't work for me. Mulder's it for me. No amount of dating is going to change that."

Missy looked at me for a moment, shaking her head slowly. "Sometimes I just don't understand you, Danes. He must be really good in bed."

"That is none of your business," I told her, reaching to open my book. But Missy was not one to give up that easily.

"Come on, Dana, I'm your sister. We're supposed to share these things."

"Just a second ago, you were lecturing me on the danger of guys. Now you want to know the intimate details of my relationship?"

"A second ago, I was doing my duty as your sister. Now, I'm doing my duty as a fellow female. How was it?"

"You make no sense to me sometimes Missy."

"Come on, Danes, I've told you about my boyfriends."

"Yeah, usually when I didn't want to hear."

"Well, I do want to share. So tell me."

"No."

"Tell me or I tell Mom where you really were and what you were doing."

"Fine. It was. . . amazing."

"Amazing? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"What do you want? The details of the positions we used?"

"Sure, if you're willing to tell me."

"Missy, this is ridiculous."

"I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"I just want to know what this guy did to steal my little sister's heart."

"You want to know the truth? He had my heart long before the sex even entered the picture. Our relationship isn't based on the physical aspects. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're great and all, but there's so much more to Mulder and my relationship than that. It's the way he looks at me—like I'm the only person in the world who matters. Or the fact that I know he would do anything for me. Or the way he knows me better than I know myself."

"Wow. Sounds like you're really into this guy."

"I really am. Now, can I get back to my work?"

"Only if you promise to give more details later."

I sighed, half-wishing it was my mother who had found out instead of my nosy older sister. "Fine. I'll do that."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 8 (Mulder)

After dropping Scully off at school that morning, I returned my friend's car before making a trek to the local library. For the next seven hours, I looked through the hundreds of rolls of microfilm they had stored there, searching for any mention of April Base or a member of the conspiracy. I found only a couple references to the base, most of which seemed relatively mundane though I marked the date and basic details of the articles anyway.

By the time I had finally dragged myself through all of the records that that particular library kept, my stomach was growling so loudly that I was sure everyone in the place could hear me. Turning off the machine, I replaced the microfilm and left to find somewhere to eat. It was fall, so night was just starting to fall, and a good deal of light still surrounded me. I found a small burger joint relatively quickly, and one double cheeseburger and a plate of fries later, I was full.

After dinner, I wandered around the city for a bit, simply thinking. I was trying to piece together all the information I had gathered over the past couple days, still attempting to make sense of why Scully and I had been sent back in time. And why had Spender come with us? Surely if someone was trying to help us, they would have kept that cigarette smoking bastard out of our lives for at least a little while. Some peace and quiet free from government conspirators could have done us a world of good. But he was here and we would have to deal with him to the best of our abilities. I only hoped that we could triumph this time.

When I finished my musings, I glanced around at my surroundings to find that I did not recognize any of the street names on the signs around me, an unusual occurrence because of my eidetic memory. Evidently, my musings had taken more time than I had expected them to. Of course, I was not lost for long; I found a gas station nearby that was open, and the teenage clerk provided me with rudimentary directions that, though not the greatest, still brought me to a recognizable street.

Having done enough thinking for the night and unwilling to return to an empty hotel room, I turned toward the Scully residence. I had no idea what I was planning on doing once I reached the house, but I was flying out the following morning, and I wanted to see Scully one last time before I left. When I reached her house, I walked around to the back before realizing that I had no idea what window belonged to her room. I stood there a moment, unsure of how to proceed, before a familiar figure passed by one of the windows. Smiling at my good fortune, I knelt to the ground and selected a small stone, heavy enough to make a sound but not so heavy that it broke the glass. Sure, it was cliché, but it seemed appropriate.

I threw the first rock and waited for a moment, wondering if Scully had noticed the sound. Just as I was about to find another stone, the window opened, and my heart sunk. Shit. I forgot about Melissa. "Who the hell are you and what do you want?" she hissed. Fortunately, she did not raise her voice enough to alert the attention of any of the other members of the house. I did not want to explain what I was doing in their yard at 9:00 at night.

"I just wanted to talk to Sc-Dana!" I whispered back, loud enough to hear. Comprehension dawned on her, and I saw a slow smile appear on her face. Uh-oh. I was in some sort of trouble.

"Of course. You must be this Mulder character she was talking about. You should be able to climb up the tree there." She nodded toward a large oak a couple feet from the window. I raised my hand in thanks and approached the tree, swinging myself easily into the lowest branches. With years of practice under my belt, it did not take long at all for me to pull myself on the branch at the level of the open window. Missy stepped back, allowing me to squirm my way into the room. Immediately, Scully—the Scully I actually came to see—accosted me.

"What the hell are you doing, Mulder?" she questioned.

"Hello to you, too, Scully. I just came to see you."

"At 9:00 at night?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Oh." Her face softened. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Slipped my mind," I lied. The truth was, I didn't tell her because I was enjoying myself too much, and I didn't want to think about leaving her again.

"Liar." Right, I forgot she could read my mind.

"So what if I am?" I countered playfully. I saw a small smile tug at her lips, and I started to approach her, intending to widen it with a kiss, but Missy interrupted us before I made my way within a few feet of her.

"He's cute, Danes. I might approve after all."

"I don't need your approval, Missy."

"You do if you want me to cover for you with Mom and Dad."

"Cover?"

"He's leaving tomorrow, Danes," Missy prompted. I understood perfectly and turned to Missy with a wide smile.

"Is that an offer?"

"Only if you answer a few questions first."

"Depends on the questions."

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

"My intentions?" I asked, smirking a bit at her choice of words. "Have we suddenly reverted to the twelfth century?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Well, m'lady, I assure you that my intentions are perfectly honorable."

"So you're going to marry her?"

"Not right this minute. But when we're older, I want to. That is, if she'll have me."

"Trust me, she'll have you. She's totally gaga over you."

"Hello, right here!" Scully announced, waving a hand in Missy's face.

"Where did you two meet?" Missy asked, ignoring Scully.

"At Harvard this summer," I told her, feeding Missy the same line that Scully had earlier fed Kristen.

"This summer? Well, Danes, that's weird considering you were head over heels for what's his name—Brian something-or-other not too long ago."

"Really?" I turned to her with interest, not because I was jealous but because in all of our conversations over the years, she had never mentioned a Brian. And she told me most of her crushes. In fact, I could probably trace her romantic interests from primary school onward.

"I never liked Brian, Missy. I've told you this time and time again," Scully said.

"And yet your actions say something different."

"Missy." Scully's voice took on a warning tone I knew well.

"Fine. So, Mulder, tell me about yourself."

"That's a rather open-ended question."

"What do you do for fun?" Missy clarified.

"I like playing with guns, knives, pretty much any kind of weapon. I know twenty different ways to kill a man without leaving a trace," I deadpanned. Missy looked at me for a moment before realizing that I was kidding.

"A sense of humor. That's a step up from the last guy Dana brought home."

"Marshall wasn't funny?" I questioned, recalling the name with ease. A photographic memory definitely had its positive aspects.

"He was a nice guy," Scully defended.

"He was boring," Melissa declared.

"I'm with your sister here," I agreed.

"You've never met him!" Scully declared.

"Yeah, but any guy named Marshall must be a bore."

"I wonder what that logic would say about you, Fox," Scully said, emphasizing my first name. Ouch, Scully, that was a low blow.

"Fine. Point taken. I won't make fun of him for his name."

"Do you two do this often?" Missy questioned.

"What?" we asked simultaneously.

"Fight."

I shrugged. "Sure. We're very opinionated people."

"How is a relationship ever going to work out then?"

"Because we always make up in the end," Mulder said. "Now, if the interrogation is over, do you think you could cover for us for a couple hours?"

"Sure. No problem."

"Thanks." I turned toward the window but realized before I climbed out that Scully was not following me. "You coming Scully?"

"You still haven't told me where we're going," she pointed out.

"It's a surprise." Scully sighed and shook her head, approaching me.

"With you, Mulder, everything's a surprise." I smiled up at her, sliding out the window with her close behind me.

I had discovered a forest a little over a quarter of a mile from Scully's house while I was walking there, and it was to this forest that I now led her. We were fairly quiet during the trek, both lost in our own thoughts. When Scully saw where we were going, she smiled. "I was actually going to suggest the same place," she told me.

"See, we can read each other's minds," I pointed out.

"Sorry, Mulder, this isn't proof of telepathy. It just means that there are very few private places around here. These woods are probably the only place for miles where we can get some privacy outside."

"Spoilsport."

"I'm just here to keep you grounded."

"And I'm grateful for that everyday. Now, come on, let's go." I grabbed her hand and tugged her arm lightly, pulling her after me into the dense trees. We walked for a bit, both content to simply wander aimlessly through the woods. As we meandered through the trees, sometimes following the path that people before us had created but often forging our own path, we laughed and joked as if nothing had happened. And for those fleeting moments, nothing had. We were the same Mulder and Scully that we always had been and yet better because we were free from the perpetual worry. We had finally stopped the car.

Eventually, we reached a small clearing, and we both sat, me with my back against the wide trunk of a tree and Scully between my outstretched legs with her back against my chest. I linked my hands in front of her stomach, holding her close to me. A comfortable silence descended upon us, and I listened to the crickets chirping around us for a moment before speaking. "It's nice here."

"It really is. A lot of the scenery is beautiful around here."

"That's not what I was talking about."

"I know." I felt her take a breath. "So I guess this is it for awhile."

"I've got winter break in a few weeks, so I'll definitely be back then."

"This feels like you in hiding all over again."

"No, Scully, this is different. You can contact me whenever you like, and I'm free to move as I please."

"But you're still so far away."

"And I'll be here in an instant if you need me."

"Believe me, Mulder, I know that." She turned to me with a smile, reaching up to cup both of my cheeks in her hands. Leaning forward, she brought her lips to mine in a sweet kiss. "I just love you so much."

"I know. Trust me, Dana, I know."

We spent just over two hours in those woods saying goodbye, and it was still not enough. It would never be enough. I did not want to leave her, and I knew she also did not wish to leave me. Unfortunately, the circumstances demanded that we part. I walked her back to her house, and we shared one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away. Neither one of us shed a tear. We were both strong—sometimes too strong for our own good—and we would not allow ourselves to become too emotional. It was better that way.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 9 (Scully)

Knowing that a number of phone calls to England would likely anger my mother, Mulder and I spent the next few weeks corresponding by mail. Unfortunately, this meant that it usually took a few days for my letters to reach him and then another few days for his responses to reach me. I nevertheless wrote him around one letter a day, often spending an hour or so each night simply putting all my thoughts on a piece of paper, often without a coherent order. These letters resembled the often rambling conversations that we had had before, and I knew that however disordered my letters were, he would always understand them simply because he understood me. In the same way, I understood the convoluted letters he sent me.

Of course, corresponding by mail was simply not the same as seeing Mulder every day nor even the same as talking to him on the phone. I missed his voice, his familiar scent, the glint in his kind green eyes, and even the endless ramblings about whatever supernatural phenomenon he happened to read about recently (I received some of these in his letters, but they were not as long or as frequent as the ramblings that had become commonplace over the past seven years. Also, we never had a chance to debate them because of the delay in our communication). I knew he was still searching for his sister and the Syndicate, and he spoke briefly about some of his findings in his letters, but he was still as paranoid as ever and refused to speak at length about anything he had learned.

Melissa continued to quiz me about my relationship with him, and I was forced to tell more lies than I was comfortable with. I detailed them all in my letters to Mulder, hoping his eidetic memory would help us to keep them straight later. School was. . . well, school. I had managed to skate by without expending too much effort the first time around, and I found that it took even less effort now. I tried to follow Mulder's lead and do research on the Syndicate, but without the internet or government clearance, I was unable to get far. I had no idea how he had managed to find as much as he had.

As I prepared for bed one night, I leaned over to the calendar hanging above my nightstand and crossed off another day. I had been crossing days off that calendar since Mulder had left, counting down the days until he returned. If anyone had ever told me that I would one day become one of those girls who defines her entire existence by a man, spending her days thinking of him and counting down the days until she saw him again, I would have sent that person for a CAT scan. I had never been that girl, not until I met Mulder. And then I walked into his basement office and suddenly found my own existence inextricably linked with his, and the perfect little world I had created for me and only me suddenly expanded so that it could include just one other person. I had not made a conscious decision to let him into my exclusive little club; hell, I had tried valiantly to keep him out, to fortify the walls around my heart so that he could not break through them. And yet he had. He had done it slowly, chipping away at the stones piece by piece until I suddenly discovered one day that he had broken through. And by that time, he was already inside, and I had no way to force him out again. Not that I wanted to. We were partners first, and we always would be partners. He was the one person I could trust, the one person I could turn to in the midst of any storm. I did not want him in my little world at first, but now I could not imagine it without him.

As I drew the pen across the glossy page to make the second leg of the X, I paused, glancing at the number in the corner of the box. I had not been paying attention to the date before; the only number that had previously mattered to me was the handwritten number in the center of the calendar which told me the days until Mulder returned. Now, however, my eyes were drawn to the second number which declared that the current date was December 3. Normally, this date would not be particularly alarming. It was perfectly innocuous by itself. What made me pause, however, was the realization that two and a half months had passed since Mulder and I had found ourselves suddenly more than thirty years younger. And in those two and a half months, there was one thing that had been missing, something that I had not even thought about until that very moment. I was late. Very late. Like two and a half months late. And while I was still relatively young and might therefore skip a period from time to time, skipping two was definitely not normal.

Now that I stopped to think about it, I should have noticed the signs before. I had been feeling off for about three weeks now, often waking up nauseous and dizzy. I had been having chills, too, but I had chalked all the symptoms up to the flu or something similar. After all, it was that season. But I should have realized that this was no normal flu. The flu did not make someone sick for only part of the day. I was Dr. Dana Scully, M.D. I should have realized that.

My breathing quickened as I continued to stare at the calendar. How could this have happened? Wait, scratch that, I knew exactly how this had happened. I might not have Mulder's eidetic memory, but I could recall the night in question quite clearly. Or rather, both of the nights, for it was impossible to pinpoint which one had led to my current situation. We had not used protection; we had not even thought about doing so. After all, we did not have to worry about children before. I was barren; the Syndicate had made sure of that. And if by some miracle, I had become pregnant, as I had with William, well, we would both consider it just that—a miracle. We both wanted children. Protection was unnecessary.

Now, however, I was not barren. It would be years before I was taken and left barren. And as much as I wanted a baby, now was not the time to have one. I was sixteen—well, maybe not in mind, but certainly in body. I still had school to worry about; I didn't have time to take care of a baby. And my parents, well, my parents would certainly flip. I was Dana—their angel child. I had worked for most of my childhood to make sure that I did not disappoint them, and now I would be disappointing them in the worst way possible. No parent, especially a devout Catholic parent, wanted to hear that their sixteen-year-old daughter was pregnant.

I suppose I should have also been worried about Mulder's reaction. But I had known Mulder for so long that I was confident that I knew exactly how he would react. He would simply tell me that he would be happy with whatever I decided, and then he would follow through with his promise. I could have told him that I wanted us both to drop out of school, get married, and have five more kids within the next six years, and he probably would have told me I was crazy but nevertheless done exactly what I wanted. I knew he would do anything to make me happy, and he had told me as much multiple times. All I had to do was ask.

Of course, I did not want to drop out of school and get married. Actually, I was not exactly sure what I wanted to do. I will admit that I briefly—very briefly, mind you—considered terminating the pregnancy, but I immediately dismissed this idea. No, I wanted this baby. I had wanted this baby for a long time. And while the circumstances had changed, my longing for motherhood had not. I would not consider giving up this child. Perhaps the baby was a blessing in disguise, a second chance of sorts. Mulder spoke of receiving a second chance to save the world, but perhaps our second chance was a more personal one. Maybe we could do nothing to stop the end of the world, but we could at least be a little happier until that time came.

My musings were interrupted by the opening of the door. I turned to see Missy enter the room, her long hair swinging wildly behind her. "How was your date?" I inquired, swinging my legs off the bed and standing.

"Not bad. How was your evening?"

For a moment, I considered telling her everything I had discovered, but I kept my mouth shut. Mulder should be the first person to know. And I was not going to tell him yet, not until he came home from school in—I quickly checked my calendar—eleven days. This was a conversation we needed to have in person. "Pretty good," I answered. "I finished up most of my homework for the weekend, so I'm free for the next two days which is nice."

"Nerd," Missy coughed. I threw a pillow at her. Laughing, she picked up her own pillow and retaliated. Within a few seconds, we were engaged in a full-scale pillow fight, both laughing so loudly that I was surprised we had not yet attracted the attention of the other members of our family. Not that it mattered to me. These were the moments that I cherished, the memories that would forever be cemented in my brain. I had my second chance, and I was not going to waste it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 10 (Mulder)

I stepped off the plane, still feeling a bit apprehensive. I knew I should not be so nervous; after all, I was just going to see Scully, the woman who had been a constant presence in my daily life for twenty years. But Scully had said that she had something that she needed to talk to me about, and I had seen enough movies to understand that this statement never portended good news. With a sigh, I shrugged my bag onto my shoulder more securely and started walking toward the front of the airport. Scully and I had faced fluke monsters and demons together. Nothing could possibly compare to the horrors we had seen over the years.

_Then why was I so goddammed anxious?_

I hailed a cab outside and told the driver the address of the motel where I had stayed previously. As urgent as Scully's news might be, I could not very well go to meet her still carrying all my luggage for the three weeks I was out of school. As soon as I had checked in and dropped off my bags, I took another cab to Scully's school. After paying the driver, I exited the car and walked toward the front of the building, glancing quickly at my watch. School would be out in fifteen minutes. Then we could talk. I shuddered a bit, and I knew it was not because of the cold.

I spent fifteen minutes walking aimlessly around the building, my hands buried deep in my pockets. Northern California evidently got fairly cold in the winter. When the bell finally rang, I circled back to the front of the building, watching the faces emerge, searching for the familiar one I had longed to see for so long. Eventually, she did emerge from the building, her head bent against the biting wind. Without a second thought, I started toward her, my pace speeding up as I grew closer. She seemed to sense my presence when I was within twenty feet of her, for her head came up, and her eyes immediately found me amidst the sea of people. Her pale beloved face broke into a wide grin, and she began running toward me. I could hear her laughter even over the murmur of the crowd surrounding me, and it was like music to my ears. Whatever she had to say could wait. For now, I was not going to let anything ruin my happiness.

We met each other, both running so hard that I was surprised neither of us fell to the ground. She leapt into my arms—yes, Dana Katherine Scully, Mrs. Tough, no-nonsense FBI agent, actually leapt into my arms. And she did it without a second thought. Ice Queen, my ass. She had to be one of the most caring people I knew.

I snaked my arms around her middle, holding her close as I spun her around. We had attracted the attention of a few of the other students, but both of us were too consumed by our euphoria to notice. I watched her eyes shine, the cerulean blue shining with a color more beautiful than any other I had ever seen. God, how I loved this woman. I did not know how I managed to spend so many weeks away from her. I did not know how I was going to return to England later.

Of course, this was no time to dwell on what was going to happen. For now, I had my Scully in my arms, and I was going to make the most of it. Yes, I called her my Scully. She can kick my ass into next week if she wants, but I will still consider her mine. Just as I am hers. We have belonged to each other for a long time now. We are two halves of a whole, the right and the left, yin and yang. I'm nothing without her, but with her—well, we might just save the world.

After a few spins, I finally set her on the ground and leaned over, our lips meeting, exploring the somewhat familiar but nevertheless new territory. I heard a few catcalls from the group around us but ignored them. I had intended the kiss to be short and sweet—a greeting that we could continue later, perhaps when not surrounded by a crowd of hormone-crazed teenagers. But as usual, as soon as our lips touched, I was lost. My arms still held her tightly, pulling our bodies together. I might have been cold before, but now I was warm to the very core, so hot that I wondered for a moment why the light dusting of snow beneath our feet was not turning to steam. Her hands entwined themselves behind my neck, pulling my lips harder against hers as our tongues began their practiced duel. It was a dance we had completed countless times over the years, but it still remained exciting.

I don't know how long we stood there with our lips locked together, enthralled by one another even after all these years together. When we did finally pull apart, both of us were breathing rather heavily, and Scully's cheeks were tinged pink. I smiled stupidly at her. "Hi, Scully," I greeted, resting my forehead on hers.

"Good to see you, too, Mulder," she returned, grinning. My hands traced small circles on her lower back as we stood there for a few more moments. Before long, a voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled between us.

"Are you two going to stand here grinning like idiots all day or do you actually want a ride home?" Missy called. We both turned to look at her, still standing so close that I could feel the warmth of Scully's body. Most of the crowd had dispersed by this time, likely to return home. After all, few people wished to remain at school for too long after the bell rang. Missy was standing a few feet away on the sidewalk, watching us with an expression that I would best describe as a cross between amusement and annoyance.

"We're coming, Missy," Scully told her sister, starting toward her. Wrapping a firm arm around Scully's shoulders, I followed her. All three of us climbed into Missy's car, and she started it, pulling out of the space a bit faster than was probably safe, especially given the icy conditions of the roads. I looked at Scully, my eyebrows raised, and she shook her head, a universal signal for me to let it go. Obviously, Melissa had been driving like Andretti for awhile. Well, I guess if Scully can relax, so can I. She's usually the one to point out how unsafe certain driving habits are.

"Missy, do you think you can drop us at Pete's?" she questioned as we drove.

"Sure. Any reason?"

"I'm just a bit hungry, and I'm sure Mulder is, too, since he just got here."

"Actually, I'm starving," I remarked as my stomach growled in agreement. I knew food was not the only reason that Scully wanted to stop, but I would go with that excuse for now. I knew she would tell me everything later.

"Are you sure, Dana? You weren't doing too great this morning."

"I think I just ate too much last night," Scully lied. I knew immediately that she was lying, and I looked to her sharply. She had not mentioned being sick. Of course, the last letter I received from her had been written six days before, so she might not have been sick yet. Still, I felt (albeit irrationally) that she should have told me about her sickness as soon as possible. How could I help her if I didn't know what was wrong? Before I could continue my contemplation, however, she turned to me, and I read the message in her clear blue eyes. "I'll tell you soon," her eyes promised.

Missy dropped us off at the diner as promised, and Scully and I walked in and chose a booth in the corner. The place had the typical gaudy decorations common to diners and the brightly colored booths that hurt my eyes. Still, it seemed like a nice enough place, and Scully had assured me as we entered that the burgers were to die for. I shuddered slightly at her choice of words. I was still on edge, worried about what exactly she had to tell me about.

After a kind, blond waitress in her early twenties had taken our orders, I turned to Scully expectedly. "So as you found out earlier, I was sick this morning," she began.

"Sick how?" I questioned. I knew the conversation would go faster if I simply let her talk, but I also knew that she would inevitably leave out important details.

"I was nauseous and threw up most of my breakfast shortly after getting to school. Missy happened to be with me when I went running to the bathroom, so she naturally found out. I'm actually surprised she had not found out earlier."

"Earlier?"

Scully took a deep breath. "I've been sick for about four weeks now. I've been hiding it pretty well from my family; my mother tends to get overprotective, and I don't want her hovering."

"Four weeks Scully?" My words came out louder than I had intended them to, and the heads of a few other patrons turned toward us. I lowered my voice to an angry hiss. "You've been sick for four weeks and you didn't think to tell me? What if the cancer's come back? Or not really back, I guess, but what if they've started again just earlier this time? We know that cigarette smoking son of a bitch knows about everything that happened. I wouldn't put it past him to-"

"It's not the cancer, Mulder," Scully assured me quietly, interrupting my rant before I could work myself up too much. "It has nothing to do with Spender. The causes are much more. . . natural."

"Natural? How do you. . ." I trailed off, understanding suddenly. She had been sick that morning but was fine now. She said that she had been sick for four weeks actually by natural causes. It had to be impossible. But then, we hadn't really been careful. We were so used to not worrying that we did not stop to think that we were in a different time now. The situation had changed. "You're pregnant," I breathed, hardly daring to believe the words that exited my mouth. Scully nodded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. My face broke into a wide grin. "That's great!" I enthused. "God, Scully, we've been waiting for this for so long, and now we finally have our chance. And we can raise this kid right, too. We haven't started working yet, so we don't have to worry about running from the conspiracy or aliens or whatever the hell decides to have it out for us this week."

"Mulder, you're forgetting that we're still teenagers!"

"Maybe in body, but certainly not in mind."

"As far as my parents are concerned, we are."

"True." I thought for a moment before breaking out into a wide smile. "Your father and brother are going to hate me."

"Why does that make you happy?"

"I was just thinking that despite all the craziness that has happened, there are some things that haven't changed. As long as Bill still hates me, all is right with the world."

"You're crazy."

"Only for you." I know it was corny, but it still made her smile, and that was what I was going for at the moment. We spent a few moments smiling stupidly at each other before the waitress interrupted us with our drinks. As I took a sip, I suddenly realized something that I had not thought about before. "You want this baby, don't you, Scully?" I questioned.

"Of course I do. I was just thinking that the timing isn't ideal. And even if we aren't engrossed in the X-files right now, we will be eventually. The conspiracy will not just go away. The truth is still out there. We still have a quest. We still need to save the world. And our kid's going to be dragged through all of that."

"He doesn't have to be. Trust me, Scully, we can keep him safe."

"Oh, so you're assuming it's a him now?"

"Or her. I don't really care. The point is, Scully, that we're going to have a baby. A part of you and a part of me. Something _we _created. And nothing and nobody is going to take that from us. Not your parents, not your overprotective brother, not those government sons-of-bitches, no one. Understand?"

"I understand," she said. Looking into her eyes, I knew she did. The road ahead of us would not be easy, but we would continue on it anyhow.

Our food came, and we began eating. "So, have you gone to the doctor yet?" I inquired, knowing the answer even as I asked. Doctors make the worst patients. I should know; after all, I had first-hand experience.

"Not yet," she admitted. I knew it. "I have an appointment for Thursday. I wanted to wait until you came home to go." Okay, that was a bit unexpected, I will admit. But I'm certainly not going to complain. I would have killed myself if I had missed this.

"Thanks," I told her, grinning.

"My dad's coming home tomorrow," Scully continued. "I want to tell him and my mother tomorrow night. I'm sick of hiding it from her."

"Then I'll be there tomorrow night."

"You don't have to be, Mulder."

"Sure I do. We're in this together now, Scully." She relented after that, smiling. I meant what I said. I truly did. We were in this together now, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do us part. Come to think of that. . . "Scully?" I questioned.

"Hmm?" she looked up from her fries.

Well, this was not exactly how I had planned doing this, but it seemed like an appropriate time. Without thinking, I slid out of the booth, lowering myself onto one knee beside her. I fumbled for a moment—but just a moment—before discovering the small box. I had picked it up a couple weeks before. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision—not really. It had been a long time in coming, actually. I actually had a similar box in my previous life that I had carried around for fourteen years. Yes, fourteen years. I was pathetic; I knew that. But I was not going to be pathetic any longer. Something was urging me onward, telling me that despite less-than-romantic surroundings, this was the right time.

"Dana Katherine Scully, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" I opened the box, and she gasped as she saw the diamond ring seated on the velvet inside. It had cost a pretty penny, but I had enough money from my father.

"Mulder?" I saw the question in her eyes. It was not a question of whether or not she wanted to marry me; I knew she had wanted to get married for years. She had shrugged it off, claimed it did not matter, but I had seen her eyes every time we watched a movie with a wedding ceremony or happened to pass a bridal magazine in the store. I knew she did not want all the fuss of a major ceremony, but I was also aware that she wanted _something_. And if I had been smarter, I would have pushed harder to ensure that she had something. As it was, I was content knowing that she loved me and would be by my side forever. A wedding was too much hassle. We had enough on our plates as it was; we did not need some elaborate ceremony to ensure that we would always be together.

No, Scully's question was "Why now? Why here?" She was right; we were still in danger even though we had not started on the X-files yet. We would have to be discreet about our marriage, but that did not mean that we could not go through with it. Though we might have to work a little harder than the normal couple, we could certainly pull it off. A little hard work never hurt anyone.

"I bought the ring before I knew about the pregnancy," I told her, allaying a fear that I was fairly certain she did not have. But that question was easier to answer.

"I know," she said simply. "But why did you buy it?"

"Because we've waited long enough. I'm sick of waiting. You deserve a wedding, a proper marriage, not some act."

"It was never an act, Mulder."

"Maybe not, but it wasn't complete either. I know you want to be married in the church, Scully, and I want that for you. I want you to feel that we're married in the eyes of God. I know that's important."

"What about in the eyes of the law?"

"I'm not so sure that's such a good idea. I still want to work with you on the X-files if at all possible. A marriage license might throw off those plans."

Scully chuckled. "I bet it would."

"So is that a yes?" I inquired.

"Of course it's a yes, you idiot." I smiled, slipping the ring onto her finger before standing, lifting her off the booth and pulling her to me. Our lips met in a searing kiss that lasted until the waitress cleared her throat, reminding us that we were not alone. A bit sheepish, we pulled away, returning to our meal. As we ate, we continued to steal glances at each other, both of us wearing ridiculous-looking grins. I felt like a giddy teenager again with his first crush, but this was a thousand times better because it was Scully and she was not just my crush. She was my partner, my best friend, my constant, my fiancee, my everything.

As we ate, I toyed with her leg beneath the table, running my foot gently up and down her calf. She shot me her patented Scully glare, but I ignored this look as I continued to tease her. We walked outside hand-in-hand, and I took the opportunity to pull her into a small alleyway between the diner and the building next to it, pushing her against the wall so that I could kiss her senseless. She eagerly returned the kiss, and before long, I found myself leaning into her with one arm on either side of her head, my lips pressed tightly against hers.

It was not long before my hands dropped to her hips, my thumbs tracing circles on her pelvic bone. She responded by moving her hands lower, raking her fingers down my spine. I wondered briefly if our actions were spurred by teenage hormones now that we were in teenage bodies, but I quickly remembered that even before our time travel, we acted like hormone-crazed teenagers. Not that I was complaining.

In another minute or so, my hands had moved farther up, toying with the hem of her shirt. My tongue had already entered her mouth, and she had taken to caressing it with hers as her hands traveled still lower. I groaned into her mouth when she cupped my ass, and my hands moved to her abdomen, tickling the smooth skin. Her body moved closer to mine, her breasts now pushed against my chest, teasing me. I wanted her so badly at that moment that I felt as if I might burst. My erection was already straining against my jeans; it did not help that it was pressed against her body. My hands moved higher, pushing her bra aside as I cupped first one breast and then the other in my large palms. My fingers traced circles around her bare skin, causing her to groan and buck her hips against me. Our difference in height meant that her legs were straddling one of my knees, and I could feel the heat of her arousal even through the two layers of fabric that still separated us.

"God, Mulder," she moaned. I moved my lips off hers, tracing my tongue across her jawbone. At the same time, I brought my leg up slightly, rubbing it against her, trying to stimulate her in any way possible. And it certainly seemed to be working; she let out another loud groan that caused me to harden more than I had previously believed possible. I thought that I might come before we had even taken off any of our clothes. I was teetering dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. How did Scully have this effect on me?

Her hands had circled to the front of my body by this time, and she took no time in resting them on my tented pants. The warmth of her palms only served to arouse me farther, and my lips increased the ferocity of their attack on her upper neck. She squeezed gently, and I moaned loudly, my fingers momentarily stopping their dance across her upper body. I was ready to take her then and there, consequences be damned. Luckily, before we went any further, a loud clanging sounded to our right.

Both of us pulled off of each other, turning, our hands dropping to the non-existent guns. A cat emerged from behind one of the dumpsters, and we both laughed a bit nervously, looking back to one another. The air was still charged with weeks of pent up sexual frustration, but we managed to keep our distance. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her lips full and red. It took all my willpower to turn from her and toward the street. "Come on, Scully, the motel's only a few blocks," I managed to choke out. She nodded, likely not trusting herself to be capable of speech. I myself was surprised that I was still coherent.

We started back to the motel, not touching each other, both afraid of the string of events even something as simple as a touch could set off. I set a quick pace, but for once, she did not complain; she kept up remarkably well, in fact, given our difference in heights. At one point in time during the trip, our hands brushed, and I felt my abdomen muscles clench. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath, refusing to allow myself to come unless I was inside of her. . . no, don't go there. Nothing good can come from those thoughts right now.

We somehow made it back to the motel; by the time we reached the lobby, I was close to jogging. I think Scully _was_ jogging in an attempt to keep up with me. There was no elevator, but I was only on the third floor, so it was not a huge deal. We approached the staircase without slowing much, and I held the door open for Scully out of habit. Her body happened to brush against mine as she passed through the open doorway, and I lost all self control. I mean, it had been nine weeks since we had seen one another; that was the longest period of time we had been apart in years. I was entitled to some loss of self-control.

The door to the staircase slammed shut behind us as I pushed Scully's body against it, attacking her lips with mine. "Up," she instructed breathlessly, pulling her lips momentarily from mine. With a growl, I lifted her into my arms and began to climb the stairs without breaking contact with her lips, a rather impressive feat if I do say so myself. Somehow, we made it up two flights without breaking anything, and I turned in the direction of my motel room. When I reached it, however, I realized that the key was in my back pocket. Placing Scully on the ground, I started to reach back to grab it, but she fisted the fabric of my shirt, pulling me to her. It seems I was not the only one feeling a bit sexually frustrated.

We continued the intense make-out session for a minute or so more until I pulled away with a groan. "If we do this anymore, I'm not going to last," I muttered, and it was true. It was already taking every ounce of self control not to let myself go. Reaching back, I found the key in my pocket and clumsily inserted it in the lock, my brain too clouded by lust to fully comprehend exactly how to use a key. Just as I was tempted to kick in the door, the lock turned, and the door swung inward. Finally. I pushed Scully inside, kicking the door shut behind me. Once more, I lifted her into my arms, letting the key drop to the floor as I did so. It did not matter. I would find it later. For now, all that mattered was the woman in my arms.

Awhile later, we lay tangled on the creaky bed, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat. Rolling over, Scully checked the time on the old clock by the bed, immediately sitting straight up when she read the numbers. "I've got to leave?"

"Why?"

"I don't want to be late for dinner. My mother would kill me." She swung her feet off the bed and began making her way toward the bathroom. "You're coming, too, by the way!" she called as she entered the room.

"What?" I, too, pushed myself off the bed. "When did I agree to this?"

"I want my mother to meet you before we tell her and Ahab the good news. If she gets to know you and like you, she might be slightly more amenable to our. . . announcement." I snorted. Having met Maggie numerous times, I seriously doubted that. Hearing my derisive snort, Scully looked back at me. "Okay, she might be less inclined to kill you. At least not right away."

"Thanks, that's comforting," I mumbled. "Feel like sharing the shower? We can both get ready to go quicker that way."

"I've shared showers with you before, Mulder, and I'm well aware of the fact that it often slows down the process." With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving me to collapse back onto the bed with a satisfied smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Just for kicks, I decided to do something a little different. Here's Maggie's point of view.

Chapter 11 (Maggie)

When Dana did not come home with Missy, I panicked a bit, but Missy quickly assured me that she had gone over to a friend's house to work on some project. I nodded. Though some parents might be suspicious upon hearing this story, I knew Dana. She would never do anything to disappoint me.

Of course, I could not help but be slightly suspicious when Dana showed up almost three ours later with a boy who looked to be about three or four years older than her. Missy had not mentioned the gender of Dana's friend, but I doubted that it was this boy, for he looked to be college-aged. And there was something about them that told me they were more than friends. They stood a couple feet apart, not touching, but the air between them was charged with something that I could not describe. I could tell they were close; a few simple observations told me that Dana was more comfortable with this mysterious boy than she had ever been with anyone else in her life. It scared me a bit. Actually, it scared me a lot. I did not want to see my baby grow up. In my mind, she was still collecting bugs in the old jam jars that I gave her (a habit which created all sorts of hassles since the caterpillars of which she was so fond tended to turn into moths in her room).

When they first walked into the kitchen, I was still putting the finishing touches on dinner. I called to Dana to set the table before realizing that she was not alone, and she told me that she had someone she wanted me to meet. She introduced him as her boyfriend, Fox Mulder, instructing me to call him Mulder. There was no way that was going to happen; it simply was not polite to address someone by his or her surname. I would have to speak with Dana about manners later.

Fox, however, seemed to need no lessons in manners. As soon as Dana introduced him, he held out a hand and politely told me how pleased he was to meet me. He then offered to help with the setting of the table, but I dismissed this offer with a casual wave of my hand. Guests did not have to do chores in my house. Even after my refusal, he offered again, but it was Dana who denied him this time. "I think Charlie's in the living room, Mulder. I'll introduce you two, and you can hang out with him until dinner is ready." They shared a glance as she said this, and I sensed that they were engaged in some sort of private debate, and I was not privy to the details. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but the looks they shared were worth countless more. Their silent communication amazed me. How long had Dana known this boy?

Once she had settled Mulder in the living room with Charlie, she returned to the kitchen, and I asked her that very question. "So, where did you two meet?" I questioned, attempting to remain casual. I was not one of those mothers who believed it was best to be my daughter's friend rather than her parent, but I still did not want to antagonize her. Dana had always been fairly open with me.

"At Harvard this summer. He was doing research there, too."

"Oh, he goes to Harvard?"

"No, he's a sophomore at Oxford."

"A sophomore? How old is he?"

"Nineteen."

"That's too old for you, Dana."

"Missy's dated guys much older than that."

"Missy's Missy."

"She's still your daughter, Mom, as am I. You shouldn't treat us differently."

I sighed. She was right, as usual. Being blessed with a bright daughter did have its downfalls. Sure, I would not trade Dana for anything, but her intelligence often left me feeling as if our roles were reversed. "You're right, Dana, and I'm sorry. I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to get in over your head. You're still young."

"I know, Mom. But Mulder's a good guy." She started to place the silverware around the table, and I watched her for a moment, wishing my little girl did not have to grow up so fast.

Five minutes later, I called everyone into the kitchen for dinner. Charlie and Mulder entered first, engaged in an animated discussion about basketball. I sighed; it seemed like many days, Charlie could talk about nothing else. He followed basketball religiously—both the pros and college teams. He even knew the stats for a couple of the local high school teams. On top of that, it seemed that he wanted to do nothing with his free time except play. I suppose I should be happy that he did not spend all his time in front of a television like some kids, that he was at least active, but I often wondered if he realized there was more to life than the sport.

"Mom, did you know Mulder plays for Oxford?" Charlie inquired as he took his customary seat at the table.

"Really?" I looked to Mulder for confirmation of this fact, and he shrugged modestly.

"Yeah, really. He told me that if you said it was okay, he could give me a few tips after dinner. Please, Mom!"

"I don't want to impose on him. I'm sure he has other things to do," I said hesitantly. In truth, I was simply searching for an excuse to prevent the two from playing. No matter what Dana said, I was not entirely sure that I trusted Fox.

"Actually, I'm okay with it if you are. I'm on break right now, so I have time."

"See, Mom, it's okay. Can I go?"

"Have you finished your homework?"

"Uh huh."

I sighed. It seems I would not be winning this one. "Fine. But only for an hour."

"All right! Thanks, Mom." At that moment, Missy entered the room. When she saw Fox, her eyebrows shot up, and she regarded him with a slight smile.

"Mulder, right?" she inquired. Fox nodded. I wondered briefly where the two had met, but before I had time to inquire, the oven timer went off, and I had to retrieve the food before it burnt. Again, Fox offered to help, and again, I refused. He shared another incomprehensible look with Dana before sitting down at the table next to Charlie at my son's insistence. It seems that Dana was not the only member of my family who was taken with Fox Mulder. And if I was not mistaken, I noticed a glint of attraction in Missy's eyes, also.

We sat down to dinner, and Charlie started the conversation by telling me about the fight in his gym class that day. All his life, Charlie had been a friendly, loquacious boy. I never had to ask him about his day at school when he arrived home; he readily volunteered this information without my prompting. I hoped he would remain this way through his teenage years. It would be nice to have a teenager who I could talk to. Missy and Bill would always fight with me and though Dana was always an angel, she never truly told me anything. Actually, she never told anybody anything. Her father probably knew more about her than anyone, and even he was often kept in the dark. Dana did not like discussing her emotions. She preferred to keep them bottled up inside her. I knew this preference was not healthy for her, and I urged her to talk to me on more than one occasion, but she only responded with her sweet smile and an assurance that she was fine.

When Charlie had finished his story, I turned to Fox who was eating steadily; half the food on his plate had already disappeared. As he ate, I noticed that he would periodically glance at Dana, and their looks spoke volumes. It seemed unlikely that they had only known each other for a few months as Dana had claimed. If I did not know any better, I would say the two had known each other for a lifetime. "So, Fox, what are you studying at Oxford?" I questioned.

He finished chewing and swallowed before answering. I hoped Charlie would take a lesson from him in table manners. "Psychology," he said finally.

"Really? And do you like that?"

"It has its ups and downs."

"So are you going to open your own practice once you graduate then?"

"I might. I have to go to grad school first though."

"Dana's going to medical school." I smiled proudly at my daughter.

"I know." They shared a private smile. I wished I knew the meaning of it.

"So, how are you doing in school?"

"Mom, is the third degree really necessary?" Dana asked.

"I'm just trying to make small talk."

"You're interrogating him."

"She's your mother. It's her right," Mulder said placatingly. I had to hand it to the boy—he sure knew how to suck up to parents. Turning back to me, he answered my question. "I'm top of my class. Mostly A's, but a B here and there."

"Do you drink?"

"Not often."

"Smoke?"

"No."

"Drugs?"

"No."

"There's got to be something wrong with you."

"Trust me, there's plenty wrong with me." The infuriating knowing smile struck again. I really wish I knew what they were saying to each other.

"Like what?"

"Mom, that's enough now. Mulder's been kind enough to give you all the information you've asked for so far, and I think he deserves a break."

Reluctantly, I relented. "Okay." The conversation turned to Missy and Dana's days at school, and I allowed my children to carry most of the conversation so that I could observe Fox. He seemed relatively at ease, teasing Dana more than her brother did. I noticed, however, that when Fox teased her, her eyes did not take on the same mutinous glint that they did when her brother teased her. Sure, she retaliated; my Dana was never one to sit back and take the punches. But the smile never slid off her face. I did not remember the last time I had seen her laugh like she did that night. All her life, she had been serious, sometimes too serious. Yet Mulder brought out a different side of her, allowed her to relax and lighten up. I do not know how he accomplished this amazing feat when no one else could, but I was grateful that he had such a positive effect on my baby girl.

All in all, I was feeling much less hostile toward Mulder after dinner, especially when he insisted on helping Dana with the dishes (it was her night to do them). As they disappeared into the kitchen to complete their task, I stood at the doorway, observing them. I knew I should not do so, but I could not help myself. The first thing I noticed was that they worked seamlessly as a team. Fox was washing, leaving Dana to dry and put away the dishes. Often, Dana did not even have to glance at him to know if he was done with a particular dish. She would simply reach out her hand, and he would have the clean dish ready to place on her palm.

They were arguing about something; I could tell from the low timbre of their voices. However, I did not think it was anything serious, for their eyes still danced with a glimmer that was all too familiar. It was the same glimmer that I knew was present in my eyes when I looked at Bill. My baby was in love; I did not doubt that. I had had my suspicions when she first introduced me to Fox, and now I knew. I could not help but think that it was too early for her to be in love. But then again, Dana did everything else before everyone else. I guess it was only natural that she also be precocious when it came to love.

As I continued watching, I saw Dana turn away to put away the plates, and Fox picked up the sprayer. I knew what was coming, and a small smile formed on my face as Dana turned around to be met with a steady stream of water to her chest. She sputtered for a moment, and Fox's lips spread into a devilish grin. Without warning, she reached out and wrenched the sprayer from his grasp, sending another cascade of water down over the floor. I supposed I should interrupt before they flooded my kitchen, but I stayed rooted to the spot. Dana now turned the sprayer on Fox, managing to thoroughly soak his t-shirt. "It's on," I heard him remark, splashing some of the soapy water from the sink onto her. She shrieked, and he laughed, but his chuckles ended in a cough as the next stream of water hit him square in the face.

His eyes took on a glint that I knew well, for I had seen it many times in the eyes of my children. I watched, wondering how he would next retaliate. What he did, however, surprised me. Stepping forward, he took Dana's face between his hands, bringing his lips to hers while simultaneously crushing the sprayer between them, effectively ending the water fight. It fell to the sink as Dana dropped it, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck to pull him closer. I felt my jaw drop as I watched them. The kiss seemed much too heated for a fifteen-year-old and her boyfriend. Under any other circumstances, I would have stepped in and stopped the kiss immediately, reminding the kids that actions had consequences and that they were much too young to deal with the consequences. Even Bill and I did not kiss like that. We loved each other deeply, but the kiss I was seeing transcended love. It seemed to embody everything good in a relationship—passion, desire, trust, companionship, and love. It was not the kiss of two teenagers. It was the kiss of two people who shared an entire world between the two of them, who had a connection so deep that nothing could break it. I had never seen anything like it before.

And so I could not stop the kiss; I simply watched, enthralled, as Fox's hands came to rest on my daughter's hips, his thumbs slowly circling the bone. They moved closer together, their bodies pressed right up against each other, making it impossible for me to tell where one began and the other ended. "Mom, what are you-whoa!" Missy had come up behind me and suddenly noticed what I was seeing. Fox and Dana appeared not to hear her, for they remained locked together. "Why aren't you going in there to break them up?" Missy questioned. "Every time you caught me with a guy, you would always come in and break it up, and then I'd get to hear about the consequences of premarital sex. If there's anyone who needs to hear that talk, it's those two." She gestured to the couple still entwined in my kitchen.

"Why?"

"Why? Are you kidding me?" Missy scoffed. "They're obviously having sex, Mom."

I turned fully to my older daughter now. No matter how much she loved this guy, I would not condone Dana having sex at fifteen. "How do you know?"

"Look at them." I glanced at them before turning back to Missy, still not saying a word. "See, you know, too. Now go in there and do the mom thing." She pushed me toward the kitchen, and I had no choice but to stumble in, clearing my throat loudly.

The effect was immediate. Both jumped away as if they had been burned, and Fox immediately began promising to clean up the mess while Dana tried to explain away the position I had found them in. "Save it, Dana," I told her.

"Nothing happened, Mom."

"You know my feelings about premarital sex, Dana."

"I know, Mom."

"And you understand the consequences."

A silent question and answer flowed between them. "Yes, Mom," Dana sighed.

"I'm just trying to protect you."

"I know, Mom, and I'm grateful, but in this particular instance, I don't need protection."

"You're fifteen, Dana. That's too young."

"It depends on your perspective."

"Dana, are you having sex with this boy?"

I saw her flinch, and I knew in that moment that Missy was correct. She paused for a moment, and I wondered if she was going to lie to me. But I should have known better. Dana was a stickler for the truth. "Yes, Mom," she answered.

"I thought you knew better, Dana," I said. I had expected this with Missy but Dana?

"There's nothing to know better, Mom. I love Mulder. We're getting married."

I saw him flinch at this. Obviously, he had not expected the news to reach me so soon. Still, I had to give the boy credit; after a brief moment, his face regained its neutral expression, and he moved his hand to Dana's shoulder, silently giving her support. "What?" I inquired. "Why? Are you pregnant?"

"That's not the reason. He bought the ring before he knew." At this, Fox turned his eyes to the ceiling. I saw Dana bite her lip as she realized what she had revealed.

"So you are pregnant?" My world was slowly collapsing around me. The universe had seemed to turn upside down, and I knew no way to right it again. "Who are you and what have you done with Dana?"

"She's right here, Mom. Always has been."

"I can't believe this, Dana."

"Well, believe it, Mom."

"You are not the daughter I raised." I was angry now; did Dana even stop to think about how her actions would affect the rest of her life? She could not raise a baby and go to medical school. And Fox would probably turn and run as soon as he could, leaving her stranded with a kid. I had seen it happen to countless girls before. Girls who had bright futures ahead of them. I did not want that to be my Dana.

"I'm tired of listening to this. I'm out of here." And with that, she left the house, letting the back door slam behind her. I had forgotten about the formidable Scully temper. She came by her red hair honestly.

"I'm not going to leave her. Or the baby. Ever," Fox told me quietly before following her out the door. There was such conviction in his words that I instantly believed him. Still, he was a teenage boy. By nature, they were flighty. How had my little girl managed to mess up her life so badly?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 12 (Mulder)

It did not take me long to catch up to her since I still had the advantage of longer legs. Once I did, I walked beside her, matching her pace. "I'm not the enemy here, Scully," I told her after a few seconds of silence.

"I know," she said through gritted teeth.

"Your mother isn't either."

"I know!" This time, her voice was louder.

"Come on, stop this." I enforced my words with a hand on her shoulder, and she stopped her furious pace, turning to look at me.

"Why can't she just accept it? Why does she have to start telling me what I can and can't do and talking about how I've changed, how I've disappointed her?"

"You haven't disappointed her, Scully."

"I'm pregnant at fifteen."

"But we want this baby. And we'll raise it right. Together."

"She thinks it will screw up my future."

"It won't."

"I know." Here she paused, biting her lip. "She doesn't see me the same way any more," she choked out before the tears began to fall. I thought that might be what was bothering her. Gently, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close.

"Just wait. She'll see those changes are for the better," I assured her. "In the meantime, I think we should go back and explain exactly how much we want this baby and how it's not going to change your plans for medical school."

"What if it does?"

"It won't," I repeated, more firmly this time.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you." I pulled her close again, rubbing soothing circles on her back. Just as we pulled apart, I heard a familiar cry in the distance. Scully looked to me, her eyes wild with fear.

"Charlie!" she exclaimed, and we were soon both racing toward the sound. It did not take us long to discover Charlie; he was standing behind a couple trees, struggling against two shadowy assailants. Scully and I did not even take time to think; our FBI training kicked in, and we immediately sprang into action. I approached the figure on my left, leaving Scully to deal with the one to the right. We had the element of surprise on our hands, so my first blow to the side of the figure's head went undeflected. As I raised my arm to deliver another punch, however, the assailant raised his or her own fists in self-defense, countering my blow. Wishing I had my gun, I blocked a punch to my abdomen before barely countering a second blow to my face. Grabbing the assailant's arms, I pushed back forcefully, simultaneously kicking his feet from beneath him. The assailant stumbled backwards but miraculously retained his balance, once again coming at me swinging.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something glinting in the moonlight. "Scully, knife!" I yelled, running toward her and throwing myself on top of her attacker. Though this action did succeed in preventing the knife from piercing my partner's flesh, the blade instead sought refuge right below my left rib. A stream of curses left my mouth as I pummeled the rather surprised attacker, driving the base of my hand forcefully into his nose in a move I knew would incapacitate him. As I had suspected, he stopped resisting though I gave him another couple blows to the side of the head to be sure. Glancing around, I found Scully now engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the assailant I had earlier been fighting. Stumbling to my feet, still cursing the blade embedded deep within my skin, I teetered over to the fighting pair.

Time suddenly seemed to slow down. I saw Scully deliver two hard blows—one to her opponent's instep and the other to his groin. He went down with a wince of pain just as I noticed the movement of a third figure in the woods directly behind us. I don't know what alerted me, but I instinctively knew that he had a gun. I would say it was a psychic ability, but Scully would probably tell me that my subconscious had heard the click of the cocking mechanism or something similar. Feeling as if I was running through a pool of Jello, I sprinted toward Scully and Charlie, screaming for them to get down. Even my words seemed to take forever to emerge my mouth, and when they did, they sounded slow and garbled. My legs would not cooperate correctly, but I kept pushing anyway. I would make it in time. I had to.

Just as abruptly as it had slowed, time resumed its normal pace again. I fell against Scully, extending both my arms so that I could tackle both her and Charlie to the ground just as the unmistakable rapport of a gun sounded in the distance. Six shots later, the shooter seemed to be out of bullets, for the gunshots abruptly ended, leaving all our ears ringing. We remained on the ground a few moments longer until we were sure that the shooter had gone. As I slowly pushed myself off of Scully and Charlie, Scully jumped to her feet, intending to take off after the shooter. "Scully!" I called. She turned to me, and I could see her face clearly in the light of the nearly full moon. Silently, I reminded her that we were no longer FBI agents. We did not have guns or training. We were not supposed to chase after shooters; we were supposed to call the cops and let them deal with the situation.

"I'm going to find a payphone and call 911," she announced.

"Good idea. Take Charlie with you. I'll stay here and watch these guys." I nodded to the two groaning men on the ground. The truth was, now that the adrenaline had worn off, I was beginning to truly feel the pain in my side, and it hurt like hell. It had taken a great deal of effort just to get up, and I had a feeling that walking anywhere at that moment would not be a good idea. Luckily, it was dark, so Scully could not read my face well enough to know the real reason that I had volunteered to remain behind. I had no doubt that she had her suspicions, but she had sense enough to realize that we needed to call 911 as soon as possible and that arguing would get us nowhere. And so she called out to Charlie, who was still lying on the ground beside me, likely scared out of his mind, and the two disappeared into the night.

I did not have to wait long for Scully to return. By the time she did, my vision was swimming. I had tried to stand up once, but my stomach had turned warningly, so I had deemed it wise to remain on the ground. The two men we had earlier incapacitated were still lying on the ground; neither had moved much. One had turned over and groaned, but I had moved closer to him in warning, and he had been remarkably compliant. When Scully saw me still sitting on the ground in a similar position to the one I had taken when she left, she immediately became suspicious.

"The police will be here in a few minutes," she told me.

"Good." I still did not move, keeping my head down to avoid eye contact, for I knew that if my eyes met hers, she would be able to discern what had happened despite the dim light of the area. Unfortunately, I could not hide anything from Scully for very long. Her eyes narrowed as she took in my hunched form.

"I told them to send an ambulance, too."

"That's good. I'm sure they'll need it." I nodded to the two groaning men.

"And you?"

"Me?" I decided to play innocent even though I knew I could never fool her.

"Yes, you. What did you do to yourself?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder." She crouched down beside me, and I could immediately tell that she had entered her doctor mode. I knew that no amount of protesting could stop her from examining me now, so I decided to eliminate at least part of my suffering and simply tell her where I was injured so that she would not poke and prod me indiscriminately.

"My left side," I told her, wincing in pain as she lifted my shirt. I heard her sharp intake of breath when she saw my wound. I imagined it must be a pretty impressive sight even in the dim light of the moon. I felt her fingers on my skin a few inches below the wound, and I sucked in a breath as a stabbing pain shot through my body originating near the wound. Shutting my eyes tightly, I tried to ignore the pain. "There's a flashlight in the inside pocket of my coat," I told her, gritting my teeth as I spoke. I had forgotten how much I hated knife wounds.

"Oh, so that's what it was." If I had not been in so much pain, I would have smiled. I knew Scully was attempting to take my mind off the pain by distracting me with a joke, and it was working to some extent. At least I was no longer seeing stars.

"Well, I might have just been happy to see you," I added, finishing the joke. Scully grinned, reaching inside my coat to find the flashlight. She was careful as she dug around in my pockets, avoiding my wound. Once she discovered the flashlight, she clicked it on and shone it on the wound, revealing that half of my side had crimsoned from blood. Scully was immediately back in doctor mode.

"You've torn this up a lot more than I thought, Mulder," Scully remarked. "It looks like the knife was moved around a lot after you were stabbed. You're definitely going to need stitches." Her fingers moved closer to the wound, and I cried out in pain. I heard a small voice behind us.

"Is Mulder going to be okay?" Charlie. I had forgotten about him.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. He's thick-skinned. He's handled worse," Scully assured the boy. Her fingers struck again, and I ground my teeth to prevent myself from calling out in pain again.

"Are you going to just keep poking me or actually do something about the wound?" I questioned. I was light-headed, a condition I knew had been brought on by loss of blood. Still, I was determined to remain conscious.

"There's not much I can do until the ambulance comes unfortunately. We really need to stop the bleeding though. Here." She pulled off her sweatshirt and pressed it firmly to my wound. "Hold that there."

"Of course, Dr. Scully." I pressed the shirt against my wound. Scully continued to eye me carefully. "What? Do I have something on my face?" I questioned, slurring my words slightly. The loss of blood was making me dizzy.

"Just shut up and hold that sweatshirt there," Scully instructed, placing her hand over mine to increase the pressure. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered a pleasant feeling as her hand settled on top of mine, but I was rapidly losing focus on everything around me. I tried to retain consciousness, forcing myself to focus on the warmth of her hand over mine. Unfortunately, it was not working.

"Scully," I said, her name slightly garbled as it emerged from my mouth.

"What is it, Mulder?"

I don't really know what I was trying to say. Scully told me later that it sounded suspiciously like the words to an Elvis song, but I highly doubted this. At least this time she did not accuse me of speaking in falsetto. But as soon as the mumbled, incoherent words had left my mouth, I turned to the side, purging myself of most of the dinner I had eaten earlier. I felt one of Scully's hands on my back, soothing me. Everything around me was swimming in and out of focus; I felt myself slipping away. Though I struggled, the blackness eventually overcame everything else, and I fell unconscious.

When I came to, I was lying on something soft. The smell of antiseptic and bleach assaulted my nostrils, and I realized immediately that I was in the hospital. Again. Scully was certainly not going to be happy about this turn of events. Speaking of Scully. . .

I turned to see her standing beside the bed wearing an expression that I could only describe as loving bemusement. She reached down and took my hand between hers, and I gently rubbed the back of it with my thumb. "What happened?" I queried, finding that my voice was much weaker than I wanted. I cleared my throat, reaching with my free hand for a glass of water beside the bed.

"You were stabbed," she told me needlessly.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You blacked out from loss of blood. You actually lost a lot more than I first realized. They gave you a transfusion when you got here just to be safe."

"How long have I been out?"

"Around two hours now."

"And Charlie?"

"He's with Mom outside. She wants to talk to you, by the way. I'll just go get her."

"Wait!" She turned around to face me again. "The baby?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know stress can cause-"

"The baby's fine, Mulder. Once I was sure you were out of the woods, I had the doctor check just in case. Its heart is still beating."

I released a breath that I did not realize I was holding. It's funny how your priorities can change in such a short period of time. Scully gave me a small smile before leaving the room. A couple minutes later, the door opened again, and Maggie walked through it. I looked her straight in the eyes as she approached my bed, mentally preparing myself for another lecture. What she said, however, surprised me.

"Thank you." She must have noticed the confusion etched onto my face at this statement, for she hastened to clarify. "For saving the lives of two of my children."

"It was not big deal," I assured her, stopping myself before I added "I was only doing my job." At this point in time, it wasn't my job. Well, it would always be my self-assigned job to protect Scully, but I had taken no oath, having not yet joined the FBI.

"Trust me, Fox, it was a huge deal. Dana explained everything that happened tonight. The two men you brought down were wanted by the police for a string of kidnappings and murders in the area. If you hadn't been there. . . well, I shudder to think what might have happened."

"I had help," I told her, recalling Scully's part in the fight with a fond smile.

"Still, it means a lot to me that you would do that for my children."

"I'd do anything for Sc-Dana. Charlie, too. I'm growing rather fond of him."

"I believe you when you say that, Fox. I really do. Which is why I accept you into my daughter's life. And I want to be a part of my grandchild's life. I know the timing's not ideal, but you're a good man, and I trust you will take care of Dana and my grandchild. And that's what's most important."

"Of course you will be a part of the baby's life, Mrs. Scully."

"Oh, and Fox?"

"Yes?"

"I imagine you'll be needing a place to stay tonight."

"I have a room at a motel."

"Nonsense. I'm not letting you stay in a motel. You can stay at our house. You can sleep in Charlie's room. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

"I really don't want to impose."

"Trust me, Fox, you wouldn't be imposing. With four kids, I'm used to a lot of chaos. It's actually been rather quiet lately, and I miss the disorder."

"Thank you, Mrs. Scully."

"You're welcome."

By the time we had stopped at the motel to pick up my suitcase and returned to the Scully household, it was after one in the morning. Charlie had fallen asleep in the car and now half-sat, half-lay in the back with his face pressed up against the window. Maggie shook him gently awake, and he blinked confusedly a few times before realizing where we were. With a yawn, he pushed himself up and out of the car, leading the way to his bedroom. Once there, he insinuated himself under the covers and fell asleep without bothering to change.

I, however, wanted to take a shower, hoping to wash away the memories of the day (well, some of them at least). Scully saw me on my way to the bathroom with my shower stuff and called me into her room. I walked in, and she instructed me to sit down on her bed while she went to get something. I did as she asked, and a couple minutes later, she returned with a roll of gauze tape and some Ziploc bags. "Take off your shirt," she told me.

"Well, Scully, that was a bit forward, but if you insist." I lifted my shirt off my body as she rolled her eyes at my comment. I wondered how long she would continue to have that reaction to my remarks. After all, she had only been hearing stuff like that for twenty years. One of these days, her eyes were going to stick backwards.

"I'm going to tape some plastic on your bandages so that they won't get wet in the shower," she told me as she began to cut up the Ziploc bags. When she had finished, she set her supplies on the table beside her, and I stood, stretching my arms above my head, purposely allowing my rather impressive (if I do say so myself) muscles to show. Again, Scully gave an eye roll. "Get your shower, Mulder," she told me, tossing my shirt at me. I caught it with a grin before leaving the room.

I woke up the next morning to the muffled sounds of a drawer opening and the soft creak of a floorboard as someone moved across the room. I opened my eyes slightly and saw a small figure shuffling around the room, a pile of clothes clutched in his arms. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you up," he told me. "Mom and Dana said that you needed your sleep."

"That's okay, Buddy. I should be getting up anyway." I groaned and sat up, throwing the blankets off of my body. Yawning, I stood and rifled through my bag until I found a clean t-shirt, and I pulled this on over the sweatpants that I already wore. I figured that showing up to the kitchen shirtless might not be the best way to ingratiate myself with Scully's mother. Though seeing the look on Scully's face if I did could make the risk worth it.

In the kitchen, I found Missy and Scully nearly finished with their breakfast. Mrs. Scully looked up when she heard me come down, and she instructed me to sit down while she brought me breakfast. Deeming it best not to argue with her, I sat in the seat she indicated, waiting until she placed a plate of food in front of me. Scully suddenly pushed her chair back and stood, excusing herself quickly. Glancing over, I noticed that she had left a couple bites of food on her plate, a fairly unusual occurrence as Scully usually was good about clearing her plate. Excusing myself also, I followed Scully out of the room, ignoring the curious glances I received from the rest of her family.

I found Scully fairly easily in the upstairs bathroom. She was bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. Without hesitation, I knelt beside her, pulling her hair out of her face as my hand automatically went to her back. My thumb rubbed small circles through the fabric of her t-shirt, soothing her in the only way I knew how.

When she had finally rid herself of her breakfast, I stood to get her a drink, but she stood, too, probably quicker than she should, and reached for the glass by the sink before I could grab it. "I can get it, Mulder."

"Just trying to help," I told her.

Her tone softened. "I know. And thank you."

"Anytime. Whenever you need a hair holder, I'm here."

"Thanks. I'll remember that." We stood there for a moment, staring at each other with small smiles on our faces. "I should probably be getting to school," Scully finally announced, stepping towards the door.

"Right. Feel like some company?"

"You already followed me around one day. I would think you'd be bored of that."

"I could never be bored of you, Scully. Besides, it beats sitting at home with your mother."

"You could find something else to do."

"I guess. Maybe I'll go to the park and see if anybody's up for some pick up."

"You just got stabbed last night, Mulder. You should not be doing anything strenuous," Scully chided. I grinned.

"I'll be careful, Dr. Scully. I promise." She looked as if she did not believe me, but Missy called out to her before she could respond, telling her that it was time for them to leave.

"Don't do anything stupid," she warned before walking out of the bathroom to join her sister. I smiled after her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 13 (Scully)

I could barely concentrate on my work that day, for I was still too concerned with what Mulder might do in my absence. I knew he would hurt himself; he had a tendency to get himself in trouble when I was not around. Hell, he had a tendency to get himself in trouble even when I was around, usually pulling me into it, too. But at least then I would be there to help him out.

As soon as school was out, I raced to meet Missy, hoping to return home soon to ensure that Mulder had not done anything stupid. . . again. Luckily, I found him standing just outside the doorway, wearing a wide smile. "Miss me?" he asked.

"What have you been up to all day, Mulder?"

"The usual you know. Beer, poker, hookers."

"And all under the watchful eye of my mother?"

"It was her suggestion."

"Of course. So, what did you really do?"

"Nothing much. I went to the library to do some research for a project I'm working on with one of my professors next term."

"And?"

"And what? That's what I did." Though at first glance he appeared to be telling the truth, I had known him long enough not to miss how he briefly cast his eyes downward before answering, a sure sign he was lying.

"You played pick up, didn't you?" I guessed.

"But I was careful," he countered. "And nothing happened. See." He raised his shirt far enough for me to see the bandages which were, fortunately, still white.

"Mulder, this is how you get hurt," I sighed.

"Come on, Scully, I was bored. You can't expect me just to sit around all day."

"You could find something safer to do. Like walking."

"But that's no fun." He pouted like a spoiled child, but we did not have a chance to finish the argument, for Missy chose that moment to exit the building.

"Hey, Mulder, I should have expected to see you here. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. Dad should be there by now." She smirked at the two of us. I turned to Mulder who wore a pained expression.

"Might as well face the music," he said. "Just do me a favor and make sure you tell our kid about me after your father kills me."

"Ahab won't kill you," I assured him. "Maim you, maybe, but he doesn't want his grandkid to grow up without a father."

"Gee, that's comforting."

I immediately knew that my father was home when we walked in the door. His aftershave had a very distinctive smell that had comforted me throughout childhood. I loved that when he was home, the scent seemed to be present throughout the house, constantly reminding me of his presence. And even after he left, the scent would continue to linger for a week or two, reminding me of him. When it finally faded during his longer trips to sea, the house seemed emptier and somehow less like home.

As soon as I set my schoolbag down in the kitchen, I rushed into the living room, throwing myself into my father's arms. He stood to receive me as soon as he heard my footfalls in the kitchen, and we shared a long hug. Missy came next, also giving Ahab a hug before settling onto the couch. Ahab next turned to Mulder who still stood in the doorway of the living room, staring awkwardly at a spot on the floor a few feet in front of him. "You must be Fox," Ahab guessed, stepping forward.

"I actually prefer Mulder, sir," Mulder told him, extending a hand.

"Maggie tells me you're dating my Starbuck."

"Yes, sir." It was one of the first times I had ever seen Mulder nervous. Even when we were being chewed out by Skinner, he always wore a calm exterior, seemingly unconcerned about the Assistant Director's wrath. But as he stood in front of my father, he literally cowered. In some ways, I could understand this reaction; my father was by no means a little man. At 6'2" and 200 pounds, he had a solid build obtained from years of navy training. He had a broad chest, wide shoulders, and thick limbs that certainly looked dangerous. Plenty of Missy's boyfriends over the years had not come back after a single meeting with Ahab.

"She also tells me that you saved her life yesterday."

"She helped, sir. It was a team effort really."

"Nevertheless, I'm glad you were on her team. I owe you a big thank you. And you are welcome in my house any time."

"Thank you, sir."

I wondered how welcome Mulder would be after my father had heard the news. But as Mulder had said, we would simply have to face the music. "Actually, Ahab, Mulder and I had something we wanted to tell you," I began, still trying to decide how best to phrase my announcement. My father beat me to the punch, however.

"You're pregnant and getting married."

My mouth dropped open as I stared at my father, the man who I was sure would become homicidal as soon as he heard my news, standing there as if hearing that his fifteen-year-old daughter was pregnant and engaged was an every day occurrence. Mulder shot me a look of confusion, his muscles still tensed as if expecting a blow at any minute. But one never came.

"Your mother told me," Ahab explained, and beside him, my mother nodded.

"I was going to tell you," I assured him quickly.

"I know," he said. "But I could tell the minute I got home that she was hiding something, and I wouldn't let it go until she told me. I can be quite persistent when I want to be." I heard Mulder mutter something about that explaining a lot beside me, but he luckily kept his voice low enough that my father did not hear.

"And you're okay with this?" I questioned incredulously.

"Not okay with it, no. Actually, when I first heard the news, I was ready to go rip this young man's head off. Or possibly another part of his anatomy." He looked at Mulder who unconsciously backed up slightly. "Don't worry, I've gotten past that point," Ahab continued. "Mostly with your mother's help. She assured me that Fox here was a good man and that he would do you right. And she told me about what he did last night. I don't believe that anybody will ever be good enough for you, Starbuck, but a man that will put his own life at risk to save yours is certainly up there. And though I certainly do not approve of your actions and wish that you two had made better decisions, what's done is done, and we can't change it now. And at least it seems that Fox is trying to do the right thing by marrying you. So while I wish you weren't in this situation, you seem to be handling it. But just know, Fox," he turned back to Mulder, "that if you ever, _ever_ hurt my baby girl, the punishment will be far more severe than simply ripping your head off."

"I would never do anything to harm Dana, sir," Mulder said, his voice steady despite the trepidation etched onto his face.

Ahab studied him for a moment. "You know what, son? I truly believe you. And now, if everyone else would be kind enough to leave, I would like to speak with Fox here alone." Ahab looked at Mulder whose eyes immediately sought mine. I raised my eyebrows slightly, asking silently if he wanted me to say, but a look of resolution came over his face, and he shook his head. With a nod, I followed my mother and sister out the door.

I did not honestly think my father would do any bodily harm to Mulder, but I could not help but worry. And so I spent ten minutes standing in the kitchen just out of sight of the living room, listening for any sounds of a struggle. Fortunately, Mulder exited the room after a few minutes unscathed as far as I could tell. As soon as he spotted me, he grinned. "I knew you would be close by."

"I wanted to make sure my father didn't kill you."

"I thought you were sure he wasn't going to."

"That was before he was replaced by a pod person."

"Pod person, Scully? I believe I'm rubbing off on you."

"You know what I mean, Mulder. He was just too calm about this whole thing. There should have at least been some shouting or some threats."

"There was a threat," Mulder reminded me.

"I expected more."

"There was more." I nodded at him to continue. "We talked about the baby and my plans for our future. He told me in no uncertain terms that if I harmed you or did wrong by you in any way, he would come after me. He also warned me that despite what he said earlier, he's still not too happy with me and that I better be on my best behavior while I'm here."

"Mom was in the room," I remembered.

"Exactly," Mulder agreed. "I have a feeling that he's not as okay with this as he made it seem in front of her. But I didn't get the shit kicked out of me, and for that I'm grateful. Especially since the knife wound is already starting to hurt like hell."

"You should let me look at it. You probably over-exerted yourself today."

"It's fine."

"Just let me look at it."

"Scully," he whined.

"Let me look at it or I'll send you back to my father," I threatened. That seemed to work; he immediately grew docile.

"Fine. Let's go look at a knife wound," he remarked sarcastically, following me up the stairs to the bathroom where my mother kept the medical supplies.

I noticed throughout dinner that Mulder had taken my father's warning to heart. He was a perfect gentleman, displaying table manners that I did not even know he possessed. After dinner, he insisted on helping to clean up, so we ended up doing the dishes together again, this time without a water fight. Once we had finished, we both retreated to the living room, I with some homework and he with a psychology journal. My father was already there in his favorite recliner reading a magazine. He glanced up as Mulder and I entered, nodding to Mulder and shooting me a smile. We both returned the greeting before settling onto the couch. Without thinking, I moved so that I was leaning against his side with my legs out across the seat of the couch and my feet dangling over the arm rest. Feeling me curl against his side, he immediately draped an arm across my shoulders before realizing our current position. Quickly, he started to withdraw the arm, but I stopped him.

"It's just an arm," I told him. "Ahab's not going to kill you for putting your arm around my shoulders."

"You don't know that," he told me but kept the arm there anyway. I spent about an hour working through a few physics problems that my teacher had assigned for the coming Thursday. They were not difficult, and I finished in no time. Mulder was still engrossed in his journal, his hand automatically tracing abstract patterns across my upper arm where it rested. Setting my book aside, I leaned further against his body, and he looked down at me. "Finished?" he questioned.

"Yeah. It wasn't hard."

"I figured you'd say that."

I tried and failed to suppress a yawn. "It's been a long day," I told him.

"Go to bed," he suggested.

"Too far," I muttered, too sleepy to form full sentences. My eyelids were already starting to droop from the soporific effect of his dancing fingers and warm arm.

"Then I offer my services as a human pillow." I smiled into his shoulder as I turned my head, burying my face against him and inhaling his scent. In no time at all, I was fast asleep.

I woke up the next morning in my own bed, feeling much more rested than I had in awhile. The sleep the previous night had done me good.

Stretching, I pushed myself out of bed and found a change of clothes. After a quick shower, I walked downstairs to breakfast. Mulder was already there, carrying on a conversation with both Charlie and Melissa. I watched them for a moment and noticed that Missy seemed unusually interested in Mulder. I would have to watch that. It could turn out to be a very interesting situation.

At one end of the table, my father sat with an open newspaper covering most of his face. He would add the occasional comment to Charlie and Mulder's conversation (which of course centered entirely on sports), but for the most part, he was quiet. Seeing me, my mother handed me a plate full of food and waved me to an empty spot at the table before taking a seat herself. All in all, the meal was fairly enjoyable.

Mulder did not show up at school at all that day nor was he waiting for me as I exited the building. I was starting to grow worried until we pulled up to the house and I found him in the driveway shooting hoops with Charlie. "Good, you two are home," he declared. "Now we can play a little two on two."

"What did I tell you about overexerting yourself, Mulder?" I questioned, slightly peeved that he had not heeded my advice. Of course, this was nothing new; Mulder rarely ever heeded my advice.

"I'm not overexerting myself. We've only played a little bit of one on one. I'm mostly just showing Charlie some new tricks with the ball and helping him with his shooting form. Show her what you learned Charlie."

"Okay." Eagerly, Charlie caught the ball that Mulder passed to him and started toward the basket, taking long strides so that he could bounce the ball between his legs with each step. He did well for about three strides before the ball collided with his heel and went flying away. Immediately, he turned and began to chase it down.

"See. I even make him chase after the stray balls," Mulder pointed out.

"Sometimes, Mulder," I sighed, reaching for his shirt so I could make sure he hadn't pulled out his stitches.

"Getting a little frisky there, huh Scully?" he inquired as my hands found the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up. Ignoring him, I checked the bandages for any sign of bleeding but luckily found none. "What's my prognosis, Doc?" he questioned, and I looked up to see him wearing his familiar cocky smirk.

"Not good if you keep that attitude."

He leaned in with a devilish smile. "Are you going to punish me?"

"And that is my cue to leave," Missy said from behind me, reminding me with a start that she had been standing there for the entire exchange. I reddened.

"I got it. Let me try again," Charlie announced from behind Mulder. With a final smile at me, Mulder turned his attention back to my younger brother.

Despite my objections, they played until nearly dinnertime, and Charlie came in bouncing with excitement. My mother sent them both away to clean up, a task they both completed in record time before returning to the kitchen. Charlie took his usual seat at the table while Mulder sweetly offered to help (I could not help but find his attempts to ingratiate himself with my parents endearing). Shooing him away, my mother brought the food to the table by herself.

Dinner was relatively pleasant. My parents seemed to be slowly warming to Mulder despite the less than ideal circumstances, and some of the tension that had hung in the air since our announcement seemed to have dissipated. Charlie had already fallen in love with him, and it seemed that Melissa was well on her way to doing so, too. Of course, I couldn't blame her. Mulder had turned on his full charm, and I had found over the years that he was often irresistible when he did so.

Having finished my homework the previous night, I had no work for the rest of the term, so I suggested to Mulder that we take a walk. He readily took to the idea, and I told my parents where we were going, adding that we would be back in an hour. My mother took a few seconds to agree to let me go, and I could clearly see from her expression that she suspected we would do more than simply walk. In her defense, I had considered it, but I was still tired, and I knew Mulder's injuries were worse than he made them seem, so it seemed inadvisable for us to engage in any sort of strenuous activities.

As we walked across the yard into the woods, I felt my mother's eyes on the back of my head. "She's staring at us," Mulder told me as we slowly ambled into the forest, our hands linked together.

"I know. She's just protective."

"You're her baby girl."

"Sometimes it's rather annoying to be the youngest."

In the dim light of the moon, I saw the shadows flicker briefly across his eyes. "Trust me, being the oldest is no picnic either." I squeezed his hand comfortingly. In all the years we had worked and lived together, he never discussed his childhood much. I knew that though he had never been abused physically, he had been verbally abused quite often, especially after his sister had disappeared until he was in his late teens at which time his mother simply grew distant and rarely talked to him. I knew that despite his feelings for his parents, however, he still cared for them deeply, and their deaths had still affected him greatly.

"I'm sorry Mulder," I told him, easing the tension by rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with my thumb.

"Not your fault. I had a tough childhood, but I've moved past that."

"You know, you have another chance now."

"To what? To reconnect? My parents never really cared about me. My mother blames me for my sister, and my father is just never around. I think that at this point in my life, I was speaking to him maybe once or twice a year and my mother only slightly more. I don't need them, and they don't want me, so I see no reason to change the arrangement."

"Mulder, you said it yourself, this is a new chance. A chance to make new choices, to change our situations."

"This choice was made a long time ago."

I was going to argue with him longer, but a single look at his face told me that further debate would be fruitless. His jaw was set, his eyes staring fixedly at the ground. I knew he had made his decision and as much as I thought he would regret it later, I could not change his mind now. Mulder was extremely stubborn; I had learned over the years that there was a point where you simply stopped arguing with him because further argument simply made him more determined to do exactly what you did not want him to do. I was fairly certain that we had reached that point, so instead of pushing him, I let it go.

"What time is your appointment tomorrow?" he questioned as we started into the woods. Thousands of crickets chirped around us, creating a cacophony of noise. I heard the rustle of leaves as nighttime creatures stirred in the trees.

"Two o'clock," I answered. "I figured I'd just drive over from school."

"Good. Then I'll just meet you there, and we can go together." We continued in silence for a couple more minutes, both of us comfortable enough with the other that neither of us felt the need to speak.

"I think Missy likes you," I said finally.

"Told you I'm irresistible," he responded cheekily.

"She's used to getting her way. Especially when it comes to guys."

"I noticed that." He looked at me carefully. "Don't worry, she won't this time. There hasn't been anyone else for a long time, Scully, and that's certainly not going to change just because we're suddenly thirty years younger."

"I know. I'm just warning you that it's not going to be easy to get rid of her."

"We'll figure something out."

When we returned to the house, both my parents were waiting in the living room for me. My mother had a magazine open in front of her, but I could tell immediately that she was not actually reading a single word on the page, for her eyes continuously swept from the clock to the door. Thankful that we had in fact been out for less than an hour, I walked into the living room, announcing my presence with a loud, "I'm home!" I saw relief cross my mother's face as she made a pretense of marking her place in the magazine, belatedly realizing that she had not actually opened it.

"Right on time," she said with a false smile. "Did you two have fun?"

"It was nice to get some fresh air," Mulder told her.

"That's good, that's good. Oh, Fox, Charlie had something to tell you. He's been waiting for you to get back. He's in his room."

Mulder glanced curiously at me, and I shrugged. I had no idea what my little brother wanted to tell him; Mulder had become Charlie's hero over the past couple days, so it did not surprise me that he was asking for him. "I guess I'll go up and see him now," Mulder said, his voice slightly halting due to bewilderment.

When he had left, I started to leave, but my mother's voice stopped me. "Dana?" she called out. I turned, and I saw the question in her eyes. It did not take a genius to figure out what she was trying to ask.

"No, Mom," I answered simply before making my way up the steps. I paused outside my younger brother's room, listening to the low cadence of Charlie and Mulder's voices. After a few seconds, I turned and entered the bathroom, quickly preparing myself for bed. When I exited, I nearly ran into Mulder who was quietly shutting the door to Charlie's room.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he questioned with a wide grin.

"Of course not. I was just getting ready for bed." I scoffed at his assumption though in truth, I had seriously considered eavesdropping, and I only dismissed the idea because I was sure I could get whatever I wanted to know out of Mulder later.

"Uh huh." He sounded dubious.

"What were you two talking about anyway?"

"Guy talk."

"Guy talk?"

"Yeah, guy talk."

"Charlie's twelve. What kind of guy talk could he possibly engage in?"

"The kind with other guys."

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not allowed to tell. He made me promise."

"I'll get it out of you, Mulder."

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" I leaned closer, keeping my body far enough away from his that no part of our bodies were touching while remaining close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. "Still impossible?"

"Highly improbable," he amended. I saw him glance down at my lips, hunger in his eyes, but a firm hand on his chest kept him back. He reached out to grip my hips, but I abruptly stepped away, leaving him standing in the corner staring at me.

"Fine. Don't tell me."

"Scully, where are you going?" he asked as I turned.

"Probably to read a little before bed." I continued to walk toward my room, noting the footfalls behind me with some satisfaction.

"What about my kiss goodnight?" he inquired.

"I don't believe I ever promised anything of the sort." I reached my bedroom door and paused to push it open. Before I could turn the knob, I felt his hands on my hips, spinning me around to face him. His breath was coming in short gasps now, and his eyes had darkened considerably. Leaning over, he allowed his lips to slowly descend toward mine, but before they touched, I turned the doorknob behind me, causing us both to fall through the doorway as it swung open.

I recovered first, having anticipated the sudden movement. Mulder stumbled for a couple more seconds, so by the time he had also recovered, I had already moved away and started gathering my pajamas. "Scully," he whined.

"What?"

"I promised." I swear, sometimes I wondered if his brain had grown younger, too. Actually, scratch that, he had always acted five.

"That's fine. I'm not forcing you to tell me." I busied myself digging through my underwear drawer, purposely holding up a couple of the selections. Though none were particularly revealing, my actions still captured Mulder's attention, and I could feel his gaze during the entire process.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Scully," he said.

"Good thing I'm not a cat then." I selected a pair of underwear before crossing the room, shutting the door firmly. Before Mulder could react, I pulled off my shirt, dropping it casually to the floor as I stretched my arms above my head. Though I would certainly not be winning any modeling contests, my actions were enough to direct all of Mulder's attention to my chest. Mulder started toward me again, but I sidestepped him, turning my back to him as I reached behind me to unclip my bra.

"Fine. Charlie likes one of the girls in his class," Mulder said breathlessly, his tongue involuntarily flitting over his lips. My fingers paused at the clasp to my bra, and I turned to face him fully, my eyebrows arched.

"Really?"

"Yes. And since Bill's not around, I guess I was the next most obvious older male figure who he could solicit advice from."

"I see."

"So do I. Unfortunately, I don't see as much as I want to." He moved toward me again, and this time I did not move away. Reaching me, he wrapped his arms around my torso, his expert fingers making quick work of the clasp. In no time at all, I stood half-naked in front of him as his nimble fingers trailed over my upper body.

"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with Charlie liking girls."

"You'd rather he liked boys?" Mulder's fingers trailed across my collarbone, followed closely by his lips.

"No, I'd just rather he wait a little longer before noticing girls. He's twelve."

"That's actually about the right age to start realizing girls don't have cooties after all. I had my first girlfriend when I was thirteen." His voice vibrated against my skin.

"Still, he seems so little."

"You know what, Scully? I'd rather not be discussing your brother right now." His hands found my breasts, cupping them as if testing their weight. I moaned slightly and moved closer to him, letting my eyes slide shut in pleasure as he continued his ministrations. I was only a few seconds away from shucking the rest of my clothing when I realized with a start where we were.

"Stop, Mulder," I told him, pulling away abruptly.

"Why?"

"Because we're in my childhood home, and my parents are both three doors down."

"So? I think they've guessed by now that we're sexually active."

"That doesn't mean I want to advertise the fact."

"Fine." He placed a last, lingering kiss on my lips before pulling away. "You might want to get dressed though. It'll make this a little easier."

"Boys," I said with a sigh, turning to pull on a loose t-shirt.

"Men," Mulder corrected.

"I don't think you ever earned that title, Mulder."

"Wow, Scully, you sure know how to cut a guy down."

"I just speak the truth. Sometimes, the truth hurts." I grinned at him, and he responded by moving closer to me again, pressing his lips against mine. After a few seconds, I pulled away. "How do we always seem to end up in this position?" I questioned, attempting to ignore the strong emotions running through my body.

"Maybe you're just irresistible," Mulder suggested.

"Or maybe you have no self-control."

"I resent that statement, Scully. I have plenty of self-control. Otherwise, we would both be naked right now." I shivered slightly at the thought, an involuntary action that he picked up on immediately. "Obviously, the idea appeals to you, too, so I say we go for it. What's the worse that can happen?"

"Trust me, we probably don't want to find out," I told him.

"Really?" He started to lean forward again, but I stopped him with a firm hand on his chest, knowing that if I let him continue, I might not have the control to stop him.

"Go to bed, Mulder."

"Why?"

"Because you need your sleep."

"Scully, it's me. I usually subsist on about four hours of sleep."

"Well, I need my sleep."

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

"No, Mulder."

"Spoilsport."

"Goodnight, Mulder." I turned my back to him, hearing the door open and close as he left the room. Shaking my head, I climbed into bed.

My appointment was scheduled for the following afternoon, so I left school soon after lunch. My mother had offered to come to the appointment with me, but I had asked her not to come, for I knew I would be more comfortable with only Mulder there. Of course, this led to questions about driving arrangements; it had taken almost half an hour to convince my mother to allow Mulder to drive the car. Surprisingly, it was my father who had finally stood up for him, claiming that driving the car would be only one of many responsibilities that Mulder would have during the following years. Evidently, Ahab was slowly warming to Mulder; I think he enjoyed having another male who was not twelve around the house.

When I walked into the parking lot, Mulder was already waiting for me, the front seat pushed all the way back and his legs stretched out in front of him. He smiled when he saw me, and I returned the grin, entering the car. "You know where we're going?" he questioned as I buckled my seatbelt.

"I wrote down directions," I said, waving a sheet of paper at him. "And we have three different maps in the back. Missy has a tendency to get lost."

"Well, let's go then."

We found the doctor's office without difficulty; it was a mid-sized brick building sandwiched between a grocery store and a bank. The parking lot was fairly empty, an occurrence which was only natural given that it was still early in the afternoon, so most people were still at work. Once Mulder parked the car, we walked into the building together, our bodies close but not touching, a habit we had picked up after years together. We had a tendency to keep our intimacy private, a necessity due to FBI regulations and the number of powerful enemies we had made. Though we had both had loosened up considerably since our time travel, old habits died hard.

When we walked in, I immediately started toward the counter to sign in, and Mulder followed slightly behind me, glancing around the room. I knew he felt out of place; he was the only male in the waiting room, and it seemed that the eyes of most of the women there were on him. I wondered if they were judging us because of our youth; after all, we were very young parents. I saw a couple other girls who looked to be around my age, however, so I knew that despite the belittling looks I was receiving, I was not the only girl in my situation.

"It's estrogen central," Mulder hissed in my ear as I printed my name on the line.

"We are at the office of an obstetrician," I pointed out.

"I realize that, thank you. But I thought that it usually took two to tango."

"But only one needs to go in for the checkups."

He looked at me curiously. "Am I not supposed to be here or something?" he questioned. "Because I really don't know, having never done this before. I just assumed that since I was the father, a certain level of. . . participation was required."

"Nothing's required," I pointed out. "Nothing's stopping you from leaving."

"Nothing except twenty years together. And a desire to raise my progeny."

"Trust me, Mulder, I'm very glad you're here. I don't know if I would want to go through this alone." He seemed to relax somewhat after my assurance, reaching to pick up a nearby magazine. Upon seeing that the cover read "Good Housekeeping," he replaced it in the stack, rifling through the other magazines. Finding nothing that interested him, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap as he stared at the wall in front of him, lost in thought.

"What are we going to name him? Or her?" he inquired after a couple minutes.

"I hadn't really thought about it," I admitted.

"I've always liked the name Reid," Mulder remarked. "I had a good friend named Reid when I was younger. It seemed like a cool name to me."

"I thought Tubelcain was a cool name when I was little. That doesn't mean that's what I want to name my first born."

"Tubelcain? Really?"

"It's in the Bible. I just thought it sounded funny."

"If we're going with biblical names, perhaps we should consider Methuselah and Solomon. Or how about Judas? I'm sure he'd be well-liked."

"What about Adam?"

"Always a solid choice. Samuel's also good."

"I could go for Samuel. How about for a girl?"

"Lindsey maybe. Or possibly Lauren. Lily is good, too."

"How about Lola?"

"As in flowers in her hair and a dress cut down to there?"

"Hopefully not for a long time," I joked.

"I'm not sure about that one."

I smiled. "I was just joking, Mulder. I thought I'd go with your L theme."

"I didn't mean to have a theme. They just all happened to start with the same letter."

"You know, I think the real way to solve this would be by going through a baby name book and actually looking at the meanings of these names."

"Why? No one ever knows the meaning of your name when you tell them. They just know if it sounds stupid or not."

Before we could argue any further, the door opened and a nurse appeared. "Dana Scully," she read from her clipboard. I stood, and Mulder followed suit beside me. Together, we walked back toward the doorway in which the nurse stood, his hand in its customary place at the small of my back. "How are you today, Dana?" she questioned as we reached the door. It was a standard question asked by just about every nurse that I had come into contact with over the years. It was a way to put patients at ease, to develop a rapport with them which would hopefully help them to forget about whatever problem they had which had necessitated a doctor.

"I'm fine, thank you," I told her, stepping through the doorway after her.

"And you must be the father," she guessed, glancing at Mulder.

"So she tells me," he answered. I glared at him, and he smirked.

"He is the father," I confirmed, turning back to the nurse who had stopped in front of a small room. She waved Mulder and me inside and followed, shutting the door behind us. As soon as we were in the room, she instructed me to change into a hospital gown, pointing me to a connecting bathroom.

"Did you drink water as you were instructed?" she inquired when I emerged from the bathroom wearing only the gown.

"I did," I told her. I thought about adding the fact that I had to pee so badly that it was uncomfortable, but I decided that was too much information.

"Good. If you'll just lie down on the table then we can get started. Dad, you can come over here and sit beside her if you like," she said, pointing out a chair to Mulder who had been standing awkwardly in the corner up until that point.

"Thanks," Mulder said, taking the chair. As soon as I was settled on the table, Mulder took my hand, turning to the nurse.

"This is going to be a bit cold," she informed me as she began to spread the gel around my abdomen. When she had finished that task, she slowly began to move the ultrasound scanner over my abdomen. I felt the press of it on my bladder and shifted a bit, somewhat uncomfortable. My discomfort was soon forgotten, however, as the nurse directed my attention to the screen above me. "And that is your baby," she announced, pausing the motion of the scanner. My medical training allowed me to make out the baby's basic features, but I could see the confusion etched into Mulder's face as he stared at the screen. "That is the head," the nurse declared, pointing. "And you can also see two legs and an arm here." She pointed to each feature, and I saw comprehension begin to dawn on Mulder.

"It's like a Rorschach test," he declared, squinting at the picture. The nurse laughed.

"I guess you could see it that way. Do you want me to print this out for you?"

"That would be great, thanks," I told her.

"Okay." She pressed a few buttons on her keyboard. "I'll retrieve the picture for you. You just lay here; the doctor should be in soon." I nodded and she left the room. When the door had closed behind her, Mulder turned to me with a wide grin.

"We have a baby, Scully," he said in an excited whisper. "Or at least a dark-colored blob that the trained professionals assure me is a baby."

"Trust me, it's a baby Mulder."

"And I get to be here for this one," he declared. "No running off to the middle of nowhere Georgia."

"Birth in a hospital. That'll be nice," I told him.

The door opened again, and the doctor walked into the room. "Miss. Scully?" he asked, looking up from his clipboard. I nodded. "You are," he consulted the chart again, "approximately three months along, correct?"

"I am," I confirmed.

"Very good. Let's just take a look."

An hour later, we emerged from the doctor's office with a picture of the baby and the assurances of the doctor that he or she was developing normally. Mulder and I had both decided that we wanted to wait to find out the sex of the baby; we were simply content to know that we had a healthy baby. Mulder was more excited than I had ever imagined he would be. I knew he would be happy for me, but I had never thought that he would be so enthused over the whole process. He had continued to stare at the ultrasound throughout the entire appointment, and by the time we left, he could accurately identify the baby's features better than I could. He brought up the subject of names again as we drove back to school to pick up Missy. We debated names for awhile, stopping only when we saw Missy waiting for us.

"So you didn't crash it," she observed, climbing into the back seat.

"Just don't look too closely at the fender," Mulder joked.

"What?" Missy reached for the door handle to get out and check the fender, but I stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"He's kidding," I assured her.

"It wasn't a very funny joke."

"On the contrary, I found it quite hilarious," he remarked, starting the car.

"Bill should be there when we get home," Missy said, changing the topic abruptly. I saw the look of pain cross Mulder's face briefly.

"Oh really? That's nice," Mulder said. "I guess I should go back to the motel then."

"I don't think that's going to happen," I told him. "Bill has his own room that he sleeps in when he comes home. You're fine where you are, and Mom won't let you leave. I can guarantee that."

"But six people under one roof is already a lot. I don't want to add another."

"Trust me, no one will even notice."

"We'll see about that," he mumbled.

Sure enough, when we walked in the front door, I was immediately pulled into a large hug. I wrapped my arms around my older brother, squeezing him for a few seconds before pulling back to look into his bright blue eyes. "Hi, Bill," I greeted.

"Hi yourself little sis," he responded. He looked just like I remembered him; his brown hair was cut short in the style of most military men, and he had the stiff bearing that he had obtained from his military training. He was just over six feet tall and solidly built with broad shoulders and thick limbs. His face was rather plain but not unpleasant; his features were perhaps a bit too disproportionate, but he had still attracted his fair share of girls over the years.

After Bill had also greeted Missy, I gestured to Mulder. "Bill, this is Mulder," I introduced. Bill glanced at Mulder, his smile rapidly turning into a scowl. I suspected for a moment that Bill was preparing to punch Mulder, and I could tell from the look on Mulder's face that he was preparing for just such an occurrence. Fortunately, Bill simply extended a hand which Mulder readily accepted. After a perfunctory shake, they released the other's hand and resumed standing stiffly a few feet from one another, staring each other down.

"I understand you and my sister are dating," Bill said.

"We are," Mulder confirmed.

"You better treat her right," Bill threatened.

"I have every intention of doing so," Mulder responded.

"Good. I must say, you seem better than the last few she's brought home. At least you have some spine." Bill's eyes travelled over Mulder's figure, sizing him up. "You play basketball?" he questioned finally. I should have known Bill would come around to that eventually; like Charlie, his favorite topic of conversation was sports.

A small smile graced Mulder's lips as he responded, "A little bit."

"Good. We can play some one-on-one later. I've been looking forward to finding a worthy opponent."

"Bill, there's actually something you should know," I said before they started up a sports discussion. I knew that both could continue such a discussion indefinitely.

"What's that?" He turned to me expectantly, and I found myself suddenly wishing that my mother had spilled the beans to him, too.

"Mulder and I, well. . ." I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "We're getting married and having a baby," I said quickly. I had found that telling someone news they did not wish to hear was often similar to ripping off a bandaid: the faster you did it, the less it would hurt. Unfortunately, it was not me who was hurt by this particular piece of bad news. As soon as the words left my mouth, Bill abruptly turned back to Mulder, punching him square in the jaw. A second punch landed on Mulder's nose before he finally recovered enough to respond. When Bill attempted a third punch, Mulder caught his fist with one hand, knocking Bill's other hand away with his free hand. With some effort, Mulder pushed Bill's hand down into a less dangerous position. I could clearly see the fury in Bill's eyes, and I began to seriously worry about Mulder. My brother had a horrible temper; I had seen him truly angry only a couple times in my life, and it never ended well for the people involved.

"I guess I should have seen that one coming," Mulder commented, his words slightly muffled by the stream of blood flowing from his nose. Bill tried to land another punch, but Mulder's hand shot up quickly, blocking Bill's fist. "Look, I don't think this is really necessary," Mulder said, deflecting another blow.

"Actually, I think it's completely necessary," Bill hissed.

"You know I have no intention of hurting your sister."

"The damage is already done."

"Pregnancy is not damage."

"I can't believe you!" Bill lunged at Mulder, but before the fight could escalate, my mother entered the room.

"Bill Scully, I don't believe you!" she scolded. "Mulder is a guest in this house."

"Mom, do you know what he did?" Bill inquired, still red-faced with anger.

"Yes, I do know about his and Dana's situation. However, both are dealing with the situation remarkably well. As long as they continue to do so, I see no reason to start fights. I expect better from you. Understand?"

Bill looked at the floor as he answered. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now come help me with dinner." Meekly, Bill followed her from the room, glaring in Mulder's direction as he left. As soon as Bill was gone, Mulder turned to me, blood still pouring from his nose.

"Do you have any gauze he asked?" I smiled at the odd sound of his voice, and he responded with a glare, obviously unamused.

"Yeah. Come on, I'll go get it for you."

Dinner was somewhat tense, but I had expected as much. Although I loved both my brother and Mulder, both of them had a tendency to cause tension, and I knew the two of them together would never end well. Charlie was the only family member who seemed unaffected by the thick tension which hung heavy in the air; he was just as loquacious as usual throughout the meal, and he spent much of dinner attempting to draw in both Mulder and Bill to his conversation. At one point, he suggested that the two should play a game of one-on-one together, and Bill readily agreed, eying Mulder with an almost predatory expression. I was slightly concerned and was about to suggest that one-on-one wait until another day, but Mulder also agreed to the suggestion before I could say anything.

Again, Mulder offered to clean up after dinner, and again, my mother refused his offer. Bill took the opportunity to remind him of the basketball challenge, and Mulder nodded, turning toward the door. I followed somewhat apprehensively, wondering if I would have to break up a fight.

The game started off fairly innocuously. It quickly became clear that Mulder was the better player; Bill had played basketball with the neighborhood kids growing up, but he had never played seriously. He had always preferred baseball. Though both were fairly evenly matched in speed and size, Mulder had more fundamental basketball knowledge and skills, both of which allowed him to make plays that Bill could not copy. I saw the frustration clearly etched into Bill's face as Mulder once more faked to the right before crossing the ball to his left hand with one deft movement and driving to the basket for a layup. "Eleven-six," Mulder announced as the ball fell through the net into his waiting hands. "We're playing to twenty-one, right?"

"You're cheating," Bill told him, ignoring his final question.

"I'm not cheating," Mulder argued, returning to the top of the three point line that he and Charlie had earlier chalked on the cement.

"Yes, you're cheating."

"How am I cheating?" Mulder bounced the ball to Bill to check it.

"I don't know. I just know that you are." Bill returned the ball to Mulder who simply shook his head at the final comment. Mulder stood for a moment, shifting his weight from one side to the other and watching as Bill mirrored his movements. Without warning, he suddenly moved to the right with a sudden burst of speed, stopping a couple feet inside the three-point line. As he lifted the ball into shooting position, I saw him hesitate briefly. Bill had caught up to him by this time and stood in front of him with a hand in front of Mulder's face. Mulder released the ball, and it sailed in a smooth arc, coming down nearly a foot away from the basket. I glanced quickly at Mulder. In all the time they had been playing, I had not seen him air ball; in fact, I could not remember ever seeing him air ball. He was an excellent shooter, usually playing in the two position on his team (though he had told me once that he had played every position at some point in time during his college career).

A single look at Mulder's face, however, told me that the air ball was not a mistake. He was watching Bill run for the rebound with an expression that I could only interpret as satisfaction. For whatever reason, he had intended to miss that shot.

As the game continued, I started to realize that Mulder was purposely throwing it. His shots were more erratic, his movements slower, and his defense fairly ineffective. I had grown up with two brothers, so I knew sports well enough to see that Mulder was certainly not playing as well as he could. He failed to take a number of wide-open shots and did not drive even when a lane was clearly open. I was surprised that Bill had not yet noticed Mulder's sudden lack of skill, but Bill seemed too focused on winning to worry about why he was suddenly outscoring Mulder. I supposed that Mulder had realized that beating my brother at basketball was not the best way to ingratiate himself with my family; I knew Mulder well enough to know that he was willing to make himself look foolish or inept if he believed that he could benefit from doing so. I had also learned that Mulder was anything but foolish or inept. Obviously, Bill had not yet realized this.

In the end, Bill won 21-17. As soon as the ball soared into the basket for his final point, he turned to Mulder with a triumphant smile. Mulder returned the smile, holding out his hand. Bill hesitated for a moment before taking the offered hand and giving three firm shakes. I watched the interaction with interest; perhaps Mulder throwing the game had worked out better than I expected. Bill's anger seemed to have decreased somewhat; he did congratulate Mulder on a game well-played (though he also not-so-subtly remarked on his continued superiority). Mulder took the comment surprisingly well; he simply nodded, promising that he would play again sometime in the near future, before joining me. Bill disappeared back inside, leaving Mulder and I standing in the driveway alone.

"You threw the game," I observed.

"It didn't seem advisable to cream your brother in basketball. He hates me enough already," Mulder defended.

"You probably did the right thing. Though you took the defeat remarkably well."

"Believe it or not, Scully, I can lose well. Even if I don't lose often."

"And you're oh-so-humble too."

"Almost as humble as Bill." I smiled. After a few seconds of silence, Mulder asked, "Hey, you think your parents will let me take you out on a date tomorrow?"

"A date?" My eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, a date. A proper date. Something we haven't really done much."

"I'll ask, but it should be okay as long as we're back by curfew."

"I think I can manage that."

The following night, I stood in front of my mirror carefully putting on my earrings. The door to the room opened, and Missy walked in, sprawling out across her bed. "I hear you have a date tonight," Missy remarked.

"I do," I confirmed.

"Mind if I join you?"

"On my date?" I turned to my sister, confused.

"Yeah. Jacob bailed on me, so I don't have anything to do, and you know how I hate to be alone on a Friday night."

"Then call Julie or Kathryn or someone." I turned back to the mirror to finish inserting my earrings.

"They have dates," Melissa whined.

"So do I. "

"But we're sisters. We're supposed to share everything."

"I didn't remember that clause in the sister handbook," I said dryly.

"You had to read the fine print. Come on, Danes, please."

"No, Missy. You're not coming on my date."

A sly smile spread across Melissa's face. "And why is that, Dana? Do you and lover boy have something planned that you don't want your older sister to see? Maybe it involves the back seat of the car."

"I don't know what we're doing," I admitted candidly. "Mulder just said to be ready at six and promised that dinner would be provided."

"Sounds intriguing. Are you sure I can't come?" I sighed, deciding that it was best to ignore her. As soon as I had placed the back on my earring, I glanced over my appearance a final time before checking the clock. Seeing that it was five minutes until six, I grabbed my jacket and left the room.

Surprisingly, Mulder was also ready. He was waiting in the living room flipping through yet another psychology book that he had obtained from the public library nearby. When he heard me enter, he stood and smiled at me. "Ready to go?" he questioned. I nodded, and he extended his hand. Our fingers entwined as he led me from the room and out the front door.

Mulder promised that we were going somewhere close, so we had decided to walk. Though the night was cold, my thick jacket blocked most of the chill, leaving me comfortable and warm. We walked a couple blocks in silence before Mulder turned off the road, leading me to a small side street. I wondered for a moment where he was going until he stopped in front of a small restaurant that I did not recognize.

"I was wandering around one day, and I happened to come across this place," he explained. "It looked like something you might like."

"I've never seen this place before," I told him. "Of course, I don't really remember much; Ahab was only stationed her for a couple years."

"Well, I'm glad to give you a new experience." He opened the door, allowing me to pass through it under his arm. The inside of the restaurant was warm and homey. It was lit by soft white lights over each table, and the decorations were more subtle than those found in most restaurants. The colors were also a bit more subdued, giving the place a relaxing atmosphere that I immediately fell in love with.

"A table for two please," Mulder told the hostess. She smiled at us, taking two menus. "Right this way," she said, leading us to a cozy booth in the back corner of the restaurant. We smiled in thanks as she laid our menus on the table, and both of us slid into the booth. Once we were seated, I glanced at the menu, noticing immediately that instead of the usual greasy, fried fare, it boasted healthy meals. I glanced at Mulder to gauge his reaction to the menu, expecting to hear some comment about rabbit food. Instead of remarking on the restaurant's lack of cheeseburgers, however, he was simply calmly reading the menu. I soon realized that he had known before bringing me to the restaurant that it served health food.

"Doesn't seem like your usual fare," I remarked.

"I can deal with it. I knew you'd like it."

"I do. This is great."

He smiled at me. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The food was indeed excellent, and I stuffed myself thoroughly before pushing my plate away. Mulder had already finished his dinner; seeing the remains of mine, he turned to me with a questioning look. "Go ahead. I'm full," I told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive. If I eat any more, I'll burst." That was all the encouragement he needed; grabbing my plate, he began to shovel the rest of my meal into his mouth. "I thought you didn't like anything healthy," I remarked, watching him eat greedily.

He swallowed before speaking. "I don't. It doesn't fill me up. Thus the need to finish your meal, too," he gestured at the nearly empty plate in front of him. I shook my head at him, watching as he shoved the last few bites of food into his mouth. Catching the waitress's eye, he signaled for the check before turning back to me.

When he had signaled to the waitress, I had glanced in her direction and had happened to catch sight of a small family two booths behind us. I watched as the mother scolded the two small children who were playing some game which involved crawling under the table. It was one of those scenes that I had always watched wistfully, knowing that it could never happen to me. But now it was happening. I did not know how or why, but it seemed that suddenly all of my dreams were coming true. Everything was so surreal, so unbelievable that I still felt as if I was walking through a dream world from which I would awake at any moment to find myself in the middle of some barren, post-Apocalyptic landscape with no friends or family left. That was how I had imagined my life ending—with me alone, watching as the world went to hell around me and powerless to stop the destruction. That was my fate. I was not destined to live a happy life; sure, my life had had its happy moments, but overall, it had been so fraught with suffering and destruction that I had slowly come to realize that for whatever reason, God had simply decided to make my life more difficult than that of most people.

Don't get me wrong, I did not completely hate my life. On the contrary, I believe that in the end, I had fewer regrets than most, for I knew that I had done as well as I could with the hand that I had been dealt. And despite all the hell that I had been through over the years, I never regretted joining the X-files, for this action had brought the one thing in my life that I knew made everything else worth it: Mulder. Few people could truly claim to have found their true love, the one person that complements them so perfectly that the two seemed designed to fit together. Mulder was my complete opposite, the only person who had ever challenged me, pushed me to be a better person. He had frustrated me to no end at times, but at the end of the day, I was grateful for his presence. He had opened my eyes to the world around me, shown me things that my scientific training told me could never occur. Over the years, he had slowly broken down the laws of nature that I once trusted so completely, forcing me to, sometimes grudgingly, admit that there were phenomena out there that science—at least as we understood it—could not explain.

Above all else, Mulder taught me what it meant to love. Of course, I had loved before. I loved my family and my friends. I had even believed myself to be in love at times; there were certainly relationships in my past that I would classify as love. But all of those relationships were different. I had never before loved someone as completely as I loved Mulder, had never found myself so completely wrapped up in a person that life without him seemed pointless. I could not completely describe this unique love; it was certainly more than affection or attraction. It was even more than a willingness to die for one another; that willingness had existed long before our love did. It was our complete devotion to each other, a devotion that had developed slowly over all our years together. It was the knowledge that at the end of the day, Mulder would be there no matter what. It was the absolute trust we had in one another; I had come to realize that even when the rest of the world seemed to be spouting nothing but lies, Mulder would tell me the truth. I did not trust him with just my life but also with myself; he was the one person in the world with whom I could be completely open without fear of what he might think. Mulder knew me; it was scary sometimes how well he knew me, but in ways it was also comforting. It was the reason we could communicate so well without words. And I knew him, too, with a knowledge that could only be born from years together.

"You look pensive," Mulder remarked. I blinked, clearing the thoughts from my head as my eyes focused once more on him.

"Just thinking."

"About anything interesting?"

"Just wondering if all of this is for real."

Mulder grinned at this. "I've lived in a dream world before, Scully. Trust me, this ain't it." I smiled, too. "Any particular reason why you're wondering now?"

"Nothing in particular. I was just thinking that it seems inconceivable that after everything that has happened, we're both sitting here on a real date without having to worry about shadow governments or alien invasions. And to top it all off, we're going to be parents in about six months."

"I think that after everything we went through, we were long overdue for a happy ending. Maybe we're finally getting that."

"Maybe."

"You sound skeptical."

"I'm always skeptical."

"True." The waitress returned with our check, and Mulder glanced quickly over it before removing his wallet and selecting the correct bills. Once he had paid, he stood, and I followed suit. Together, we walked from the restaurant.

It did not take me long to discern where we were going. When we left the restaurant, Mulder turned back toward the main road before starting on a route that I had travelled often during my time in California. "We're going ice skating?" I guessed, knowing that he was going in the direction of the rink.

"You said you had enjoyed it growing up."

"I did."

"Well, I thought you would still enjoy it."

Impetuously, I stopped, myself herself onto my tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "Thanks, Mulder. This is really great." He smiled at me in answer.

When I first stepped out onto the rink, I finally felt fifteen again. During the few months that I had been living as a teenager again, I still had not grown used to the idea of being suddenly over thirty years younger. But as I started to skate, a bit shakily at first yet growing steadier as the movement came back to me, I realized that I had not completely forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager. The lack of responsibilities was freeing; for the first time in a long time, I could just relax and enjoy myself. It was truly a wonderful feeling.

I suddenly felt two strong hands grip me from behind, and I was lifted off the ice, shrieking with laughter. Behind me, I heard the deep chuckle I knew belonged to Mulder, and I struggled a bit, demanding that he put me down. Still laughing, he set me back on the ice, letting his hands remain above my hips to steady me until I regained my balance. Once I had my feet firmly beneath me again, I turned to face him, noticing immediately that he was still wearing a wide grin. "What was that for?" I demanded, placing my hands on my hips.

"I thought it would be funny." He began to skate backwards away from me, and I followed, skating so that we were only a couple feet apart.

"I didn't know you knew how to skate so well," I admitted, watching how steady he appeared to be, maneuvering flawlessly backwards.

"I played some hockey in high school, and a lot of the guys on the team like to play during the off season sometimes. It's amazing how quickly it comes back to you; I was a bit shaky during the first game, but by the second, it was like I never quit playing." He reached out to take my hands as we continued to slowly skate around the rink facing each other.

"This is really nice, Mulder."

"I was hoping you'd think that." He stopped suddenly, spinning around so that we were skating side-by-side. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand. "Come on, Scully, this is way too slow." He urged me onward by tugging on my hand, and I reluctantly sped up somewhat, expecting to fall on my ass the entire time. Mulder's eyes lit up as we circled the rink faster and faster, and I soon found that his enjoyment was infectious. By our fourth or fifth lap, I, too, was smiling broadly. After a few more laps, we were moving fairly fast when a small child skated in front of me. I turned abruptly to avoid him and lost my balance, falling back toward the ice. Mulder felt me start to fall and attempted to shift his weight to stop me; unfortunately, he was too late to save me, and we both ended up falling to the ice, laughing.

"We must look ridiculous," I remarked, noting how we were both laughing like maniacs. He simply shrugged.

"I've certainly been called worse things than ridiculous."

"True." I placed my hand behind me to push myself up, but he grabbed my arm to stop me before I could fully stand. "Mulder, what-" I started, turning to him, but his lips stopped mine before I could continue any further.

We kissed for a few seconds until a passerby reminded us that we were in a public place at which point Mulder reluctantly pulled away. With one deft movement, he pushed himself onto his feet and reached down to help me up also. Once we were both standing again, we continued to skate, our hands still tightly clasped.

We stayed at the ice rink for another hour or so until both of us had sore feet. As we removed our skates, Mulder checked his watch. "We still have an hour and a half before you have to be home," he remarked.

"You have any more plans?" I inquired.

"We could go parking," he joked.

My giddiness from the day had still not worn off, so I was feeling particularly playful. Without pausing, I simply said, "Okay."

He stopped unlacing his shoes, staring at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads. I knew he had expected my typical eye roll or something similar in response to his suggestion. "That was a quick answer," he finally remarked.

"Why not? I mean, we're teenagers again. We might as well live a little."

"You know, Scully, I think I like this new side of you."

We returned to my house about ten minutes before my curfew. Both my parents were waiting in the living room for me, and I went in to say goodnight. Naturally, they asked me if we had had fun, and I assured them that we had, giving a brief summary of what we had done (though I wisely omitted the last activity). They seemed skeptical but questioned me no further for which I was grateful. After saying goodnight, Mulder and I both trudged up the stairs. When we reached Charlie's room, Mulder smiled before disappearing behind the door.

Missy accosted me as soon as I walked into the room, demanding the details. Her constant urging eventually forced me to disclose most of our activities, eliciting and eye raise and an "I told you so" from Missy. It took nearly thirty minutes before she was satisfied and allowed me to go to bed, and I lay awake listening to her exclaim about how I should have let her come for around half an hour before my eyes finally drifted shut and I fell asleep.

For the next few days, I spent much of my time lounging around the house, often being roped into playing basketball with Charlie, Bill, and Mulder. When he was not playing, Mulder was often wandering around the city, and during these random amblings, he discovered a variety of places which he would then insist on showing me. From a random occult shop on a street down which I would never have traveled under ordinary circumstances for fear of being mugged to a small underground cave in the woods a couple miles from my home, Mulder's discoveries were always interesting and certainly kept me guessing. Charlie, too, loved the "adventures" that Mulder took him on; I could tell that my little brother was quickly becoming attached, and I knew this fact bothered Bill more than anything.

My parents had been invited to a Christmas Eve party by one of the neighbors, and my mother had decided it would be good for us to meet new people, so Christmas Eve found all seven of us rushing around the house preparing to leave. At first, Mulder had hesitated to join us, but my mother had insisted, claiming that he would soon be part of the family. My mother's persistence never ceases to amaze me; eventually, Mulder simply gave in, even acquiescing to her request that he wear one of Bill's suits which fit him surprisingly well.

We arrived at the party a few minutes after it had started, and a woman in her late forties answered the door with a broad smile. I had seen her around the neighborhood a few times, and she had always seemed unnaturally happy to me. She had struck me as one of those people with whom it is impossible to carry on an intelligent conversation, a person who is much happier to stay home and bake cookies than to use her brain. I was definitely not looking forward to this party.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 14 (Mulder)

I hated parties, and Scully knew that. I had a feeling she was receiving some form of perverse pleasure by making me attend this party though she had insisted numerous times that her mother was the one who had decided we would all go. I could not help but think that Scully had somehow talked her mother into forcing my attendance, however.

As we walked in the door, I glanced at my surroundings, the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach growing stronger as I saw the crowd surrounding me. I felt no particular desire to speak with any of them; the few who were around my age had already sectioned themselves off into their respective groups, and it did not look as if I would be welcome in any of them. Maggie was pulled away by another neighbor, and her husband reluctantly followed her. Bill and Missy both joined one of the surrounding groups of younger guests, leaving Charlie, Scully, and I standing awkwardly on one side of the room.

"Aren't we Mr. and Mrs. Popularity," I remarked.

"We could make an effort," Scully said.

"We could," I agreed though I made no move to do so.

"It would probably be the right thing to do in these circumstances."

"I'm not so sure about that one."

"Why did we have to come to this stupid party anyway?" Charlie questioned, his voice rising higher than normal in a whine.

"Because Mom told us we had to," Scully answered.

"Mulder, can we go play basketball or go exploring or something?"

Mulder laughed. "I'm not sure if your mom would approve of that."

"But I'm bored."

"That makes two of us." I turned to Scully. "Scully, we're bored!" I complained in the whiniest voice I could manage. She responded by rolling her eyes.

"Go talk to people," she suggested.

"But we don't wanna!" I said, stomping my foot slightly theatrically.

"Yeah, we don't wanna!" Charlie agreed, mimicking my actions.

Scully shook her finger at me. "You are a bad influence on him."

"Me? Never!" I exclaimed in mock horror.

Eventually, a woman in her late thirties came over and attempted to draw us into conversation. Scully immediately began to talk, but Charlie and I were much more reluctant. We spent much of the conversation making strange hand signals to each other whenever we believed neither Scully nor the other woman was looking.

An hour later, I finally managed to escape outside. After the first lady who started up a conversation with us, everyone seemed to decide that it would be the perfect time to engage us in a conversation. I finally decided that I could no longer take the inane conversation, so I excused myself to use the restroom. Once on the porch in the front of the house, I took a deep breath of fresh air, leaning against the railing as I stared out into the night. It was cool, but I was accustomed to the cold, and the slight chill did not bother me in the least.

I saw a figure trudging up the driveway, also seemingly unbothered by the cold though he wore no coat. I could not make out the details of his face from where I was standing, but it did not really matter. It was unlikely that I knew the person; he was probably just another party guest. Still, my eyes were drawn to him, and I watched as a puff of smoke emerged from the approximate location of his mouth. At first, I thought it might be the moisture from his breath condensing in the cool weather, but I soon noticed the faint smell of nicotine on the air.

I could not believe that Cancer Man had found us here, but the closer he came, the more features of his face I could make out, and the more sure I was that our nemesis was approaching. I felt fury watch over me; could he not ever just leave us alone? Even thirty-three years in the past, he was still there, waiting in the shadows just around the corner, waiting for us to let our guard down and give him an advantage.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I questioned, pushing myself straighter so that I stood above him on the porch.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he remarked casually.

"You son of a bitch, if you lay a finger on Scully or that baby, I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you slowly." I approached him, but he held up a hand. I stopped before reaching the steps, still fuming. My fingers itched to grab his neck, for I wanted to wipe that smug smile off his lips once and for all. But I knew Scully's friends and family were just inside the door, and I was still trying to remain in their good graces, so I held myself back.

"I am not here to harm Scully or the baby, Agent Mulder. Can a grandfather not be proud of his first grandchild?"

"You are not this baby's grandfather."

"Genetics disagree with you."

"Genetics aren't everything."

"Well, at any rate, I thought I'd offer a present." He reached into his inner coat pocket, and I stiffened, half-expecting his hand to emerge gripping a .45. My own hand fell to my waist where I was once again disappointed by the lack of a weapon. Fortunately, when he removed his hand from his coat, he held only a few sheets of paper which he held out to me. Cautiously, I walked closer and took them from his hand. I unfolded the top one, squinting in the dim light of the moon.

"It's a birth certificate," I finally realized.

"It is," Cancer Man confirmed.

"For a Richard Lawerence Matthas," I read from the paper. I looked up at him, my fury slightly abated now and replaced by curiosity. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"Open the envelope." I did as he asked, and a social security card fell out closely followed by a driver's license. It took me a moment to make out the picture; when I did, I glanced back at Cancer Man with puzzlement all over my face.

"That's my picture on the driver's lisence."

"Exactly."

"What are you playing at?"

"If things are to remain as they were, which would be advisable, Fox Mulder cannot marry Dana Scully nor can he father her children. Richard Matthas, however, is free to do both." He took a long draw of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly and watching as it rose slowly, billowing out slightly in the light wind.

"So you're saying that I should marry Scully but as this Richard Matthas guy?"

"I'm simply saying that any official connection you have to Agent Scully outside the FBI should not be under the name Fox Mulder."

I looked down at the papers again, hardly daring to believe what the man in front of me was telling me. We were sworn enemies and had been for years. It was inconceivable that he would suddenly decide to help me. He had to be playing at something; there was some catch to this deal. I was sure of it.

"What kind of name is Lawrence anyway?" I questioned, stalling as I attempted to think of a way to subtly discover Cancer Man's true motive.

"It was your father's name," he said, turning from me. "He died before you were born. Your mother named you in his honor. All the information is in there."

Screw subtly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I have a vested interest in making sure things remain the same as before. That includes you and Agent Scully working on the X-files."

"What if we decide not to do that? What if I never even join the FBI?"

"You will, Agent Mulder. You both will."

"Why? It's still my choice, right? I still have free will. I can choose to do whatever I want. What if I choose to practice psychology?"

"You won't choose that because you, too, have a vested interest in making sure things remain the same as before."

"A vested interest? What exactly would I have a vested interest in? Armageddon? Because from the few seconds of it that I saw, it didn't appear too pleasant."

"Trust me, Agent Mulder, things could be much worse."

"Worse than the end of the world?" I looked at him skeptically.

"It's a dangerous game, Agent Mulder. Just remember what you're gambling with." And before I could question him further, he turned and disappeared, leaving me once more wondering if he was no more than a whiff of smoke.

The door opened behind me, and I turned to see Scully's small frame in the lit doorway. "My mother said you were talking to some older gentleman out here," she remarked, her eyes searching the shadows of the yard.

"I was."

"She mentioned that he was smoking almost constantly."

"He just left. You can still smell it."

"What did he want?" Wordlessly, I handed her the documents, and she glanced over them quickly. "A fake identity? Why would he give you that?"

"He wants us to join the X-files. So evidently I can be your husband and the father of our child but only as Richard Matthas. I don't think I look like a Rick, do I?" I was trying to lighten the moment with one of my typical jokes; unfortunately, the corners of her lips remained curved downward.

"Why would he want us on the X-files? Last time, he did everything he could to remove us from them."

"He said something about it being in his best interest for things to remain as they were. Said it would be in our best interests, too." Even in the dim light, I could see the skepticism on her face, and I knew it was mirrored on mine. "I'm wary, too, but I think we should at least take his advice about the X-files. It was too big of a part of our lives for us to just give up on it. Besides, I think that it might be the best means of stopping the upcoming invasion. And Cancer Man has certainly made it easier for us." She nodded, looking down at the papers in her hands.

"You should probably come back inside before my mother comes out to find you and then chastises you for not making an effort to meet people."

"Why do I have to meet people? I don't even live here."

"I don't know why, but it would probably be in your best interests to do as she asks. My parents still aren't completely happy with you," she pointed out. I grumbled a bit, but I knew she had a point, so I reluctantly followed her inside.

We finally escaped from the party just after midnight. Charlie looked as if he were about ready to fall over from exhaustion, and he fell asleep on the way back to the house. Missy was still bubbly and cheerful; evidently, she had been the life of the party. Bill was more subdued though I knew that he, too, had enjoyed the party, having found some people around his own age to talk to (including one girl who he seemed especially interested in). William had seemed less than thrilled about the party from the beginning, but it made Maggie happy, so he had gone. My reasons for going were similar—Scully had wanted me to go, so I went.

The rest of the break passed fairly uneventfully. Christmas day with the Scully family was a huge ordeal involving more food than I typically ate in a week. Because of my frequent wanderings around town, I had managed to pick up a present for every member of the Scully family (even Bill—though I spent some time trying to decide whether or not it was worth it to give him something). They all seemed to enjoy the presents, or at least gave the pretense of enjoying them, so I felt that perhaps I was slowly ingratiating myself further.

On the last night I was staying, I was sitting at Scully's desk in her room, waiting on her to change. We had gone out to dinner that night to a nice restaurant (I was still attempting to make up for all the years without every actually going on a date). As soon as we had arrived back at the house, Scully had declared that she was going to change into something more comfortable. Without really thinking, I followed her up to her room. Over the years, I had seen her change plenty of times; after all, we had lived together for over a decade. And so it was perfectly natural for me to sit down at her desk to wait while she changed. Unfortunately, I forgot to account for the fact that we had been basically celibate for a couple weeks, and my body was itching for release. I happened to catch a glimpse of her as she removed her dress, and I felt my slacks grow tighter. Swallowing hard, I tried to concentrate on the stack of papers on the desk in front of me, but my eyes were continuously drawn to the mirror to my right which clearly revealed Scully's half-naked form.

Without truly processing what I was doing, I stood and crossed the room, placing my arms on either side of her to pin her against the nearest wall. My lips crashed down on hers as my body pressed hers tighter against the wall. I felt her relax into the kiss, opening her mouth to grant entrance to my probing tongue. "It's a good thing my parents took Charlie out to see a movie," Scully remarked breathlessly when I pulled away for a moment. I simply nodded, too intoxicated by desire to speak coherently. Of course, it didn't really matter. We had gone too far now to stop; as soon as I had pressed her against the wall, we had passed the point of no return. It turns out that once we let desire overtake us, we were never again very good at the whole self-control thing. I would blame it on teenage hormones, but the same had been true in our previous lives. I can vividly recall numerous occasions where we had made love in interesting locations simply because neither of us could wait any longer. And my desk was not even the strangest of them.

My lips were once more attached to hers, my hands seeking out the clasp to her bra. Her nimble fingers had already managed to undo the top two buttons of my dress shirt and were quickly moving to the third. Just as I discovered the elusive clasp, the door to the bedroom opened, and we jumped away from each other as if scorched. Luckily, it was only Missy who breezed over to her dresser. "I'm not going to look at you because I really don't want to know what you were doing," she announced, resolutely looking forward so that she could not see us. "I just need to get my purse which I left, and then I'll be out of your way." She grabbed a small black purse from the dresser before waving over her shoulder. "Carry on."

As the door shut behind her, I turned back to Scully. The interruption had lessened the urgency somewhat though the desire still remained. "It could've been worse," I pointed out. She smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess it could've been." I bent over to kiss her again, moving a bit slower now, but my pace quickly picked up as the passion roared to life in my chest once more, and the brief interruption was soon forgotten. Removing her bra was relatively easy since I had found the clasp, and I made quick work of the garment, tossing it to one side. I could tell she felt the same desire, for she pressed eagerly against me, her usually dexterous fingers fumbling now with the buttons.

I started to circle my hands to her breasts, but she pulled away, shaking her head. "We can go slow later," she told me. "Right now, I want you inside of me." Abandoning the buttons, she quickly unzipped my pants, pushing them and my boxers aside before reaching down to guide me inside her.

Taking Scully fast and hard against the wall of her childhood room was not something I ever imagined doing even in my wildest dreams (okay, I may have imagined it but only in a "wouldn't it be great if this would happen" sort-of way not a "this might happen in the future" sort-of way). But there we were. It did not take long for us both to topple over the cliff, and we spent a few seconds catching our breath before I guided both of us to the bed, determined to make Scully keep her promise about taking it slow. With the initial desire sated, I was able to think more clearly, and I began to kiss her long and deep, ensuring as I did so that the kisses were considerably less heated than before though still as passion-filled.

After a few minutes, I pulled back slightly, resting myself on one elbow so that I could reach up with my free hand to brush a few sweaty tendrils of hair from her forehead. "I love you," I told her matter-of-factly, letting my fingers lightly brush her skin. She pursed her lips, kissing my fingers as they passed.

"I love you, too," she answered.


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, so I had some questions about the whole CSM thing in the last chapter. Honestly, I debated for awhile whether or not to put that in. I finally decided to go ahead and do it because I wanted a way to ensure that they could still be on the X files together even if they had kids. Maybe it wasn't the best way to do it, but it was the only thing I could think of that would work.

So, on with the story.

Chapter 15 (Scully)

Somehow, we both managed to convey so much with those three simple words. Admittedly, we had always had a knack with nonverbal communication, but when Mulder told me that he loved me, I knew that it was different than when anyone else told me. I was never entirely sure what the difference was; perhaps it was the tone which he used when he said it, perhaps it was the way he always looked me directly in the eye as if he cared about nothing in the world but me, or perhaps it was something else entirely, something I could not quite put my finger on. Whatever it was, however, it was what made our relationship unique.

And as he continued to kiss me languidly, I marveled at how well he understood me. He always seemed to know exactly what to do in any situation. He was the only person who ever truly understood me, who knew what I needed at any given time. His searching fingers found the most sensitive points on my skin, and he took full advantage of them as he skillfully built up my desire. I felt his fingers dance over my stomach, moving upwards to my breasts. His kisses remained slow and deep as if he believed we had all the time in the world. And as we continued to kiss, I almost began to believe this, too. At least, I wanted to believe.

We had just gotten dressed again when I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Sending up a silent prayer that we had not finished a minute later, I shooed Mulder from my room, and he grudgingly left. Following him, I flipped off the lights, and we met my parents and Charlie in the entranceway. Charlie immediately glued himself to Mulder's side, exclaiming over a basketball game he had seen recently, and Mulder listened intently, making the occasional comment. I glanced at my mother who was smiling fondly at the two. "Bill and Missy still out?" she questioned as they crossed out of sight into the living room.

"Yes," I answered.

"You two have fun?" My mother looked back to me, her probing eyes searching my face. I tried to keep my face impassive as I answered, hoping that she would not be able to tell what we had been doing.

"We did," I confirmed.

"Good." I could tell by her expression that she knew exactly what had happened, but she said nothing, instead choosing to follow Charlie and Mulder into the living room.

The goodbye the following morning was not easy for either of us. Over the years, we had both grown accustomed to not showing emotions, and there were no tears shed as we embraced. When he pulled back, however, I could clearly see the sadness in his dark eyes, and I knew the same unhappiness was mirrored in my own eyes. He looked at me for a moment before leaning forward, and our lips met in a kiss full of longing and passion. I recognized the feeling well; it was the same way I had felt when we were kissing goodbye before he had left to go into hiding so many years before. But this time was different. This time, I knew when we would see one another again. This time, I was more assured of what the future held for both of us. I just had to keep reminding myself of this fact.

Eventually, he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. "I'll see you in a few weeks," he promised quietly. Once again, he realized exactly what I needed to hear. With that simple statement, he was assuring me that this time was indeed different, promising that he was not ever going to leave for such an uncertain period of time again. No matter what, we were sticking together now.

The taxi he had earlier called honked, and he gave me a final kiss before shouldering his bag and heading for the car. After throwing his bag in the back seat, he turned back to me and raised his hand in goodbye. I returned the gesture and stood watching as he climbed into the car and the car drove off. Even after it had disappeared around the corner, I continued to watch the fumes from the exhaust drift away in the wind. My hand involuntarily sought out my stomach. Since I was just three months along, I could not feel any movement, but I still knew that the baby was there, a piece of Mulder that would always be with me.

January seemed to pass interminably slow. Mulder and I still wrote each other frequently, but it was not the same as seeing each other every day. I would give him updates on the pregnancy, and he would usually tell me about basketball or his latest conspiracy theory. I looked forward to reading his letters every night, for they always made me smile. Missy thought I was crazy, claiming that he was "just a guy." No matter how many times I tried to explain that he was much more than "just a guy," she still would not listen, so I eventually gave up trying. I honestly think she may have been a little bit jealous.

By February, I was beginning to show. I wore baggy clothes and usually tried to carry my books in front of my body or sit in such a way that my desk blocked my stomach, two tactics which seemed to work fairly well. At least, no one asked any questions except for Kristen whom I was planning on telling anyway. She was unhappy at first, exclaiming over how it was going to ruin my plans for medical school, but she let up somewhat when she realized I was happy.

One day in late February, I was staying after school for a science club meeting. One of the other guys in the club had offered to walk me to my locker, and I had accepted, being too nice to refuse. As I gathered my stuff from my locker, he stood awkwardly beside me, not saying anything. I tried to make small talk by asking about a project he had been working on for biology lab, but I quickly realized his attention was not focused on what I was saying. Looking over at him, I noticed that he was staring at my stomach which, with the coat I typically wore off and my books now in my locker, was fairly obviously rounded.

"You're pregnant?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yes," I said honestly, slightly irritated now by the fact that he was acting as if he had never seen a pregnant woman before. "Why?"

He seemed to sense my irritation, for he quickly averted his eyes. "Nothing. I just. . . didn't know. I didn't think you were the type. . . "

"The type to what? Get herself knocked up?" By this time, I was extremely peeved. The pregnancy hormones certainly didn't help matters. "Well, my mistake. I was unaware that only a certain type of people could reproduce."

"It's not that. It's just. . . I didn't know you had a boyfriend," he finished lamely.

"Well, I do. A fiancé, actually." I held up my left hand, showing the small diamond which glistened on its ring finger. Most people did not notice the jewelry or, if they did, likely simply assumed it was just there as an accessory. The ring was small and rather unobtrusive, so I could see why people made the assumption, especially since it was highly unlikely for a fifteen-year-old to be wearing an engagement ring. It gave no indication of the commitment that Mulder and I had made to each other so long before or the true depth of our feelings for one another.

"Oh, well." He looked suddenly nervous, glancing around the hallway for a means of escape. "I guess I'll see you around then."

"Yeah, I'll see you. And Zak? I'd appreciate it if you'd keep what I told you to yourself. I'm not really interested in being bothered about it by the whole school."

"Sure." And with that, he left.

It did not take me long to discover that he had not kept his promise. When I walked into school the next day, I noticed immediately that I seemed to be garnering more attention than usual. A couple of my classmates were blatantly staring at me. Evidently, news travels fast in a high school.

Ignoring the looks as best as I could, I made my way to my locker where I met Kristen who greeted me with an eyebrow raise. "They know," she said simply.

"I gathered that," I muttered irritably.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing. I'll just keep going on like nothing's changed. Because nothing has changed. I knew people would find out eventually."

Kristen looked at me skeptically. "Good luck."

Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, things did change. I had two or three people ask me when I was due and another girl ask if she could feel my stomach (a request I summarily denied). A couple people asked me what it was like to be pregnant, and the identity of the father was inquired about more times than I could count. By the end of the day, I was ready to shoot someone, likely Zak since I suspected he had initiated the madness. He was lucky I did not have my gun.

Of course, the questions were not the worst of it. What I hated the most were the looks and whispers which followed me wherever I went. I had never really known many people before, having preferred to keep to myself and only make a few close friends. Now, however, everyone seemed to know who I was and be involved in my personal business. And because no one knew me very well, they all made assumptions. Since I was pregnant out of wedlock, I must have been a slut, never mind the fact that I had not actually slept with any guy other than Mulder in years (not that I could tell them this). And obviously, I was going to make a horrible mother, and the baby would grow up in a broken household with no love. No one ever thought that maybe, just maybe, this baby was already loved more than most children born. That the baby was being born to two people who loved each other so completely that the entire existence of one person depended on the other. Or that the existence of the baby was not a mistake but a miracle. No, all anyone ever saw was just another pregnant teen who had screwed up big time.

That night, I poured out all my anger and frustration into a note to Mulder. I knew that he would realize quickly that none of the words were directed at him, and I also knew that he would be the only person who would know exactly what to say to calm me down. Of course, I would not receive his response for a couple weeks. I was being unreasonable; I knew this. It was high school. I had been through it once, and my reputation did not matter that time, and I was sure it would not matter now. But I still had to spend the next three months there, and the pointed looks and whispered gossip were not helping matters at all.

Luckily, the initial gossip dissipated after awhile. By the time Mulder responded to my letter, most people had stopped focusing on my pregnancy and moved on to other recent stories they had heard. In some ways, I was glad that the truth was out, for it made my life much easier since I did not have to worry about how to explain my situation to any of my classmates. Life was slowly returning to normal, or at least as normal as it could be for a pregnant woman whose mind was forty-seven but whose body had only recently turned sixteen.

February slowly turned to March, and a feeling of dread seemed to permanently settle into the pit of my stomach. College acceptance letters would be out soon. And though I had gotten into college the first time around, there was no guarantee I would be offered admission this time. What if I hadn't written my essays as well this time or what if my teachers' recommendations weren't as good? If I didn't get into University of Maryland, what would that mean for my future? Would I still get into medical school? Would I still be recruited for the FBI?

Thousands of questions flooded my mind as I awaited the arrival of the letters anxiously. By the middle of the month, I had been accepted into both USC and UCLA, my safeties, along with Berkley. But the most important letter had yet to come.

During the last week of March, I stayed after finishing up a project for one of my classes, so Melissa picked me up. As soon as I walked in the door, my mother nodded to the kitchen table. "Something came for you today," she told me.

I felt as if my heart momentarily stopped beating. Slowly, I turned my head, bringing my eyes to rest on the envelope sitting casually in front of me. I immediately noticed that it was thick. Surely that was a good sign. Only a sadist would send a rejection letter that was twenty pages long.

Despite my reasoning, however, my hands were still shaking as I picked up the envelope and slid my fingers under the flap, carefully unsealing it. A thick stack of papers slid out into my waiting hands, and the first word on the first sheet immediately caught my eyes. "Congratulations," it said. I let out a breath that I was unaware I was holding. Congratulations. That meant I was in. They would not congratulate me on being rejected.

Now more at ease, I looked up and smiled at my mother. "I'm in," I told her.

"That's great, honey," she enthused. "I always knew you'd get in."

I nodded eagerly before retreating to my room with the envelope, intending to read through all the papers. First, however, I penned a quick letter to Mulder, telling him the good news. As soon as the envelope was sealed, I collapsed onto my bed, the stack of papers in my hands. It was odd; I had already gone through the entire process of being accepted to college once, but it somehow felt new and exciting anyhow, like I was doing it for the first time. I had the same jittery feeling in my stomach, the same eager, ready-to-jump-out-of-my-skin feeling as I poured over the papers, hanging onto every word. I was going to college. I was leaving my parents house, stepping out on my own. Of course, I had been out on my own for thirty years, but as I sat reading the letter, I did not feel that way. I was slowly becoming accustomed to my new identity as a teenager. And while there were still countless times when my forty-seven-year-old brain surfaced, immersing myself in the world of a sixteen-year-old had caused me to think much more like one.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 16 (Mulder)

Leaving Scully was one of the hardest things I had ever had to do. I had always hated leaving her; when circumstances forced us apart after eight years together, I felt like a piece of me was missing. And once we were reunited, I vowed never to leave her again. It was a promise I had kept up until our time travel. I had considered transferring to be somewhere closer to her, but when I suggested this option to Scully, she had shot down the idea immediately. She did not want me to sacrifice so much just to be closer to her. I tried to tell her that it was not a sacrifice, that the real sacrifice was being so far away from her, but she would not listen. She simply told me to stay at Oxford, pointing out that it would probably be best if things remained as they were before. And she had a point. If I did not stay at Oxford, I might never be recruited by the FBI, never find the X-files, never find Scully. So despite my reluctance, I remained at Oxford.

As soon as I returned, I immersed myself in basketball and school and any other activity I could dream up, trying to stay busy so that I kept my mind off of Scully. I spent most of my free time with my team and a couple other close friends. I did not date, rarely even gave girls a second glance. Well, okay, I admit, there were a few who I looked at more than once. So sue me, I'm a red-blooded male. Looking never hurt anyone. And I usually found myself comparing them to Scully anyway. None were ever as beautiful. They were too fake with their copious quantities of make-up and tight clothing designed to make guys look again. But Scully, Scully was real. With Scully, you got what you saw. I loved that about her.

I knew that my avoidance of dating raised a number of eyebrows, and I noticed the whispered conversations and pointed looks, but I did not care. I was happy with Scully and my relationship. I did not need anyone else. I had found my soulmate. And if people did not realize this, screw them.

One night in late February, one of my friends, Greg, and I were standing outside one of the chemistry buildings on campus. I was attempting to pick the lock of the building though my mind was not honestly on the task at hand. As usual, I was thinking of Scully. Greg noticed this after a minute or so when I still had not opened the lock. "Having trouble, man?" he questioned.

"Sorry, my mind was just somewhere else," I apologized, refocusing on the task at hand. Carefully, I ran the pick over the pins of the lock, applying a light pressure to the torque wrench. It did not take me long to discover the pin that was binding, and I lifted it slowly, feeling the lock move slightly as it reached the correct height.

"You're thinking about that girl of yours again, aren't you?" Greg inquired.

"Her birthday's tomorrow," I told him.

"Man, I don't see why you're so hung up on her. Like the other night, that girl was totally all over you, and you just brushed her off."

"Look, I don't expect you to understand. Let's just say that Scully and I are solid. We're having a baby, getting married. I don't need a shallow relationship."

"And that's another thing. Baby? Marriage? You're getting yourself saddled up before you're even get a chance to run free for awhile."

"I've run free long enough, Greg. I'm ready for something different. I have a feeling marriage and fatherhood will be an adventure all of its own." I raised the third pin to the correct place before starting to work on the other two.

"Geez, man, what's taking you so long?" Greg asked, growing impatient.

"I've only been really working on it for about a minute now. Give me a break."

"Hey, I picked that lock the other day in thirty seconds."

"Because it was a Masterlock. You can scrub those open in no time. But this lock is considerably harder to scrub. And I think one of the pins is false setting." I moved the pick to the pin in question, feeling the high amount of resistance. Carefully, I released some of the torque, letting the pin fall into place. Unfortunately, another pin also fell as I released the torque. I sighed before setting to work once more.

Two minutes later, I opened the lock, and we entered the building quietly lest a late-night worker hear us. "You got the stuff?" I questioned.

"Yeah." Greg shifted his backpack on his shoulders. "These speakers are heavy."

"You're the one who wouldn't use the smaller ones. Now, who's going up?"

"Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three." I nodded, raising my fist in front of me. Unfortunately, I lost the first two rounds, and Greg smirked at me before shedding the backpack and crouching on the floor, his hands clasped together. With a sigh, I placed a foot in his hands, holding onto the wall for support as he lifted me up. When I reached the ceiling, I carefully pushed open one of the tiles before pulling myself up, resting carefully on the cement which backed the wall. Greg passed the backpack up to me, and I lifted it carefully before starting to move along the wall, careful not to put any weight to either side of me so I did not fall through the ceiling. I had crawled through ceilings like this one before, but the weight of the book bag threw off my balance somewhat, so I wobbled precariously as I continued slowly onward.

After moving about twenty feet, I stopped and carefully opened the book bag, extracting the speakers and radio. It took me a few minutes to set up all the electronics; when I finished, I whispered, "Greg, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," his voice replied, slightly distorted by the speakers. I smiled. So far, so good. I fiddled with the volume for a few seconds as Greg continued speaking. Once I was satisfied, I backed away carefully, taking the now-empty book bag with me. Going back was easier since the extra weight was gone, and in no time at all, I was dropping from the ceiling at Greg's feet.

"How'd it go?"

"Just like we planned."

"Good. I can't wait to hear Professor Durbin's reaction tomorrow when he starts to hear the voice of God." We both laughed and high-fived, happy with our successful prank. As we started out of the building, still smiling, I realized that it was moments like these that college was truly about. Sure, it was important to receive and education and things like that, but classes were not the most important thing in college. What was important were the relationships formed and the memories created. When I remembered my college experience, I did not recall classrooms or professors. Rather, I recalled moments like these, scheming with my friends to pull off a prank or relaxing with them after a stressful day. I learned as much outside the classroom as I did in it. It was wonderful to be able to have the college experience again now that I could truly appreciate it.

When I returned to my room, my roommate was already snoring softly in his bed. I tossed my backpack in a corner before sitting at my desk, flipping on the lamp so that I could write. The red numbers on my digital clock proclaimed it to be 12:34, so I started my letter with two simple words. "Happy Birthday." I knew the letter would not reach her until after her birthday, but the words seemed appropriate nonetheless. I had never really celebrated her birthday while we were partners, and once she helped me escape from prison, I became determined to make it up to her. Unfortunately, I had a lot of missed birthdays for which to make amends, so it took some scheming before I came up with the perfect idea.

Our first year on the run had been rather stressful. We were reluctant to settle anywhere for fear that someone might discover us, so we moved around quite often. Scully's birthday happened to fall while we were staying in a small town in Southern Tennessee. I woke her up with breakfast in bed on the morning of her birthday, telling her to wake up, eat, and dress for a hike. She was confused at first before I pointed out the date with a laugh, and she simply nodded in realization. At first I could not believe she had forgotten her own birthday, but I realized that I should have expected as much. We were both so focused on not being caught that we had not paid attention to anything else. The date did not really matter when you had no career and no real responsibilities and were simply traipsing around the country aimlessly, trying to stay one step ahead of the military.

Well, she followed my instructions, and we drove out to the mountains which weren't too far from where we were staying. We hiked to the top of one, and I found a small river with a waterfall which provided a couple hours of entertainment. It was one of the best days we had since we had started running; hell, it was one of the best days we had ever had. There were no conspiracies, no mutants, nobody trying to kill us. It was just the two of us. It was the first time I had seen Scully truly laugh in awhile.

We made love by that river; the cool water and the warmth of our bodies made it different than anything I had ever experienced before. And as I held her in my arms and told her I loved her, I knew that this was forever. We were forever. No matter what happened, we would still be us, Scully and Mulder, partners in every sense of the word. I think I knew then that not even the end of the world would separate us though I certainly did not imagine the circumstances which would surround it.

Since it was still midday, we hiked up another mountain and watched the sunset from the top. We made love again under the stars, and I gave her the present that I had been slowly assembling during our journey. It was a charm bracelet with nine charms, one symbolizing each year of our partnership. Every year after that, we would hike up the nearest mountain on her birthday and simply spend the day lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world. It was our one day away from everything, our one day to relax and simply be normal. And at the end of the day, I would always present her with a charm for her bracelet. Of course, the bracelet was lost now as were all our other possessions. Not that it mattered. The bracelet was simply a physical representation of our partnership; the true partnership was in the memories, the laughter and sadness we had shared, the trials we had faced and overcome. The true partnership was the one thing which had remained despite our time travel. Everything else around us had changed, but we were still partners.

I smiled to myself as I sealed a silver bracelet with a single charm depicting an infant into the envelope with the letter. I had written about the mountains, telling her that I was hiking the next day and that I would be thinking about her as I stared off into the night sky from four thousand feet above sea level. And I knew even as I wrote the letter that she would be performing the same ritual because it was our connection with our previous lives. It was a reminder of what we had lost and also what we had gained, our way of reminding ourselves that we should not squander time. Because one never knew when time would run out.

Scully's family had decided to take a vacation over her spring break, so we did not see each other again until early April when I was able to fly to California during my spring break. This time, Scully met me at the airport, having received her driver's license after her sixteenth birthday. As soon as her searching eyes found me in the busy terminal, we were both running toward each other wearing wide grins. Or at least, she was doing as close of an approximation to running as her rounded stomach would allow.

We met in the middle, and I dropped my bags to wrap my arms around her as we shared a searing kiss. Three and a half months was way too long, I decided as I pulled her closer, trying to squeeze all of the air out from in between our bodies. She moaned into the kiss, her tongue coming out to trace my lips. I parted them quickly, giving her full access to my mouth which she took greedily.

Eventually, I pulled away before we got too carried away for a public place. I stepped back slightly to look at her, my eyes sliding over her obviously pregnant stomach. "You're beautiful," I told her honestly. She smiled at me and took my hand, placing it on the curve of her stomach. I only had to wait a couple minutes before feeling the kick of the baby beneath my palm. And it was not just any baby. It was _my _baby. I still could not quite wrap my head around that.

"He or she knows that Daddy's back," Scully whispered. My grin widened. "Come on, let's get you back to the house. My mother insisted that you stay with us."

"Did you tell her that really wasn't necessary?"

"Of course I did. But she would never listen. Have you met my mother?"

I chuckled. "Good point."

We were quiet on the way back to the Scully residence. Nothing needed to be said; we communicated better without words anyway. Our hands remained clasped and resting on my knee for the entire trip. Our fingers parted briefly when we exited the car, but as soon as we started toward the house, they locked together once more.

Maggie greeted us as soon as we walked into the kitchen. "Hello, Fox, it's nice to see you again," she told me with a genuine smile.

I returned the smile. "It's a pleasure to see you, too, Mrs. Scully. Thank you for letting me stay here again though it's really not necessary-"

"Oh, nonsense." She cut me off with a wave of her hand. "You're practically family. Speaking of which. . ."

"That's actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with Dana while I'm here," I said. I had been trying to remind myself to call Scully Dana around her parents. So far, so good. "Of course, we'd always welcome your opinion."

"I'd just recommend you wait until after the baby is born. It's so hard to find a dress when you don't know what size you're going to be for the wedding."

"We were planning on it," I assured her.

"If you'd excuse us, Mom, I'm going to go help Mulder settle in," Scully said. Maggie nodded, and I followed Scully up to Charlie's room. "Charlie's been asking about you for weeks now," Scully told me as I put my stuff in one corner of the room. "He keeps asking when Mulder is coming back. Seems you have a fan in the Scully house."

"Hopefully I have more than one," I told her, turning so that I could take her into my arms. I leaned forward slowly, but our lips had barely brushed when a voice pulled us apart.

"Mulder! You're here!" Charlie exclaimed, bouncing into the room.

"Yeah, little man, I just got in," I said, wishing he could have better timing. I smiled at Scully. "We'll talk later," I whispered to her. She nodded.

"I'll just let you two catch up," she told us, leaving the room.

"Were you two kissing?" Charlie questioned as the door swung shut behind Scully. I sighed and turned to the enthusiastic boy. As much as I enjoyed Charlie's company, at that moment, I simply wanted to be alone with Scully.

Unfortunately, Charlie had basically attached himself to my hip, so Scully and I did not manage to have some time to ourselves until had gone to bed. Once he was asleep, I slipped quietly into her room to find her sitting in her bed with her back propped against the pillows, reading. She did not hear me come in, so I tiptoed to the bed, leaning over to place a kiss against her lips. She was slightly startled by the sudden contact but quickly began to reciprocate, wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me closer. I moved to the bed, straddling her as we continued to kiss.

"Mulder, you need to stop. My mother's in the next room," she told me as my lips trailed down to her neck.

I grumbled a bit but pulled away from her, knowing she was being reasonable. "I still haven't had a chance to greet you properly," I told her.

"You'll get your chance. Just be patient."

"I'm trying. You're not making it easy."

"You wanted to talk about things," she said.

"Yeah. First, I wanted you to sign something." I left the room to retrieve the paper from my bag. When I returned, she stared at me curiously.

"What is it?" she questioned.

"A document which gives you full access to my bank account. There's not a huge amount of money in there, but there's some. Probably enough to get an apartment for you and the baby when you go to University of Maryland. And when I move back after college, I'll probably stay there with you, too."

Scully glanced at the sum quickly before her eyes returned to me. "Where did you get this money?" she questioned.

I shrugged. "My parents gave me a decently-sized allowance until high school, and after that, I had a job for most of the time. I never really spent that much, so the money just accumulated. I'm working now, too, so I should be able save up a little more before you start next fall."

She shook her head. "It's too much. I can't take it."

I sighed, having expected the reaction. "In a few months, we're going to be married, and then what's mine is yours anyway. I'm just speeding up the process a bit. Besides, I'm not only giving the money to you. It's also for our baby."

"Don't you need it?"

I shook my head. "My grandfather is paying for college and associated expenses like books and plane fares. So this money is ours for the baby."

"Thank you, Mulder," she told me.

"No need to thank me. I'm just doing my duty as a father." I waited until she had signed the paper before tucking it carefully away in the folder I had brought. "Now, onto other matters. Your mother's pushing for a wedding date."

"I was thinking early August. Before you go back to school."

"You sure you want to deal with a newborn and wedding planning?"

"I don't want a big wedding. Just family and close friends. And I'm sure my mother will be more than willing to help with the planning. Probably with the baby, too."

"And I'll be here to help. Don't forget me."

"Mulder, I could never forget you." She kissed me gently before snuggling up to my side as I placed an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, do you mind staying until I fall asleep?" she questioned. "This is actually the first comfortable position I've found in awhile." I glanced down at her sprawled across my chest and chuckled softly.

"Sure, Scully. Whatever you want." And I meant it, too.

We both fell asleep fairly quickly. I was still jet-lagged, and Scully had seemed tired all night. I wondered if her admission of not being able to get comfortable meant that she had had many sleepless nights. We did not even wake when Melissa went to bed; it was not until Scully's alarm went off the following morning that I finally cracked my eyes open. Scully was still lying across my chest, her mouth slightly open, causing a small puddle of drool to form on my shoulder. I grinned down at her before bowing my head to kiss her temple. "Wake up, sleepyhead," I told her. "You need to get to school."

She grunted something unintelligible and buried her face deeper into my chest. I chuckled. "Come on, Scully, you like school."

"Too early," she muttered.

"Your alarm went off."

"Mmm. . . but I'm comfortable."

"Come on, Scully, up and at 'em." I shook her shoulder gently.

"Will you two please stop flirting and get up all ready?" an irritable voice grumbled from the other side of the room. Scully threw a pillow at her sister.

After all the Scully children were gone, I offered to help Mrs. Scully with any chores around the house, but she shooed me away, claiming that she had everything under control. Bored and restless, I decided to go for a run which ended up taking me through most of the area. When I returned over an hour later sweaty and panting, I took a quick shower before setting off again to wander around the city.

I was waiting in the driveway when Melissa and Scully arrived home, trying to pass the time by working on my shooting. When Scully saw me, she smiled, approaching me. I let the basketball fall to the ground as I wrapped my arms around her to kiss her. Melissa made a sound of disgust before turning to go into the house. When we finally separated, I suggested dinner and a movie that night.

"I just need to ask my mother," Scully told me.

"Already done," I assured her. "It's a Friday night, so she says that as long as you're home by curfew, we can go."

"Then I guess it's a date."

"It's a date," I confirmed, grinning.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 17 (Scully)

Dinner that night was a fairly low-key event. Neither Mulder nor I particularly liked fancy restaurants, so he took me to a small, family-style place, another one of his discoveries during his walks. The food was excellent, the portions fairly large, and the prices reasonable. I managed to eat all the food on my plate; when Mulder noticed this, he chuckled at me. "Wow, Scully, looks like pregnancy does wonders for your appetite."

"I am eating for two, you know," I reminded him. "Besides, this is your kid. Figures he or she would have your appetite."

"Say it again," he instructed, leaning closer to me.

"Say what? The baby has your appetite?"

"No, before that."

"This is your kid?"

His face broke into a wide grin, and he leaned forward to kiss me. "I love hearing you say that," he told me. I looked at him skeptically. "What? You can't tell me that you don't fell a small rush of happiness every time you hear someone talk about your baby." I smiled when he said the words. "See," he said, pointing at my grin. "I told you. It feels good to think that in a couple months, I'm going to be a father."

Mulder was right; it did feel good. After so many years of heartbreak, the thought that I would finally have a chance at motherhood made me happier than I had ever been. And I could tell by Mulder's smile and by the way he looked at me that he felt the same way. People called us crazy and judged us for our youth, but we did not care. No one else understood what we had been through, no one else knew the series of events which brought us to the point at which we were now at. We had a right to be happy. This was our miracle, and nothing anyone else said was going to stop us from enjoying that fact.

Mulder paid the bill, and we left the restaurant with his arm wrapped tightly around me. "There are a couple movies playing at 8:30," he told me as we walked. "Neither of them looked very interesting."

"Then where are we going?" I questioned, noting that we were heading in the direction of the theater. He shrugged.

"I don't know. I just thought we'd head this way, see what we came across. . ."

"There's a hotel on the way to the movie theater," I remembered.

"Might be," he agreed, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

I stood on my tiptoes, leaning over so that I could whisper in his ear. "You just want to have your way with me, don't you?"

He stopped, turning so that we were face to face. Leaning closer, he whispered against my lips, "I figured I'd let you have your way with me, too." And with that, he closed the distance between our lips, kissing me with such passion and intensity that I would have agreed to anything he asked at that moment. Of course, I would have agreed to his idea as soon as he proposed it anyway. He was not the only one for whom it had been over three months.

When he finally pulled away, he wore a sly smile. "Whaddya say, Scully? You feel like getting a room?" he questioned.

"I think a room would be nice," I agreed.

When we returned home, my mother looked up at me from a magazine I knew she had not been reading before hearing us at the door. I smiled slightly; she had always been over-protective. But I guess that it made sense; after all, I was her baby girl. "How was the movie?" she asked us.

"We didn't actually go to the movie," I said honestly. "We just ended up wandering around for awhile. It was nice." I was all for being open with my mother, but there were some things she was simply better off not knowing.

"Well, Charlie wanted me to remind you that he has a game tomorrow at 10:00."

Mulder grinned at this; I knew Charlie had been pestering him about coming to the game since Mulder had arrived. "I think he mentioned that," Mulder said.

"He's starting at point. It's all he's been able to talk about all week."

"He'll do well. He has a lot of talent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to get to bed. I've got a game to be at tomorrow." He smiled at my mother and pressed a kiss to the top of my hair before leaving the room.

I started to follow, but my mother called me back. "Dana?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"He's good for you. And great with Charlie. I'm happy for you."

I grinned. "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

"Goodnight, honey."

"Night, Mom." I kissed her before making my way up to my room. I noticed the light already on in my room and wondered if Missy was already home from her date. It was still fairly early; Missy usually did not get home until around midnight. When I walked into the room, however, I found not Missy but Mulder who had stripped down to his boxers and was pulling on a pair of sweatpants that I had earlier stolen from him since they were one of the few articles of clothing which still fit over my ever-expanding stomach. "Mulder?"

"You said last night that you couldn't get comfortable," he explained. "So I'm here to offer my services as human pillow again."

"My mother's not going to like us sleeping in the same bed."

"Look, Scully, what I care most about right now is that you get an adequate amount of sleep, especially with the baby coming so soon. I figured that if I could help, then I would no matter what your mother said."

I sighed; he was right, I did need my rest, and I certainly had slept better with him beside me. Besides, what my mother did not know couldn't hurt her. "Okay, Mulder," I conceded. "But you need to give me back those sweatpants."

"They're mine."

"Not since your baby made me so big I can't fit into any of my clothes."

"Oh, so it's my baby now?" He grinned as he removed the pants and threw them at me. I caught them easily. "You know, Scully, if your mother doesn't like us sleeping in the same bed, she's definitely not going to like me sleeping in bed with you in nothing but my boxers," Mulder pointed out.

"Don't you have more sweatpants?"

"Yeah, in Charlie's room."

"Then go get them."

"I don't want to wake him."

"He sleeps like a log. A nuclear bomb could go off outside and he wouldn't notice."

"Fine. I'll be back." As he walked across the room to retrieve his jeans, the door opened, and Melissa walked in, venting about her date. She stopped when she saw Mulder standing a few feet in front of her wearing nothing but his underwear.

"Am I interrupting something?" she questioned.

"Mulder was just getting ready for bed," I explained quickly. "Right?"

"I'm going, I'm going," he remarked irritably, pulling the jeans on quickly and leaving the room. When the door had closed behind him, Missy turned back to me.

"Wow, Danes, I must say, you have done well for yourself."

"No ogling my fiancé, please, Missy."

"I'm just saying with that chest and those abs. . . ooh!"

I shut her up in one of the few ways I knew how; I hit her with a pillow.

Mulder returned a couple minutes later wearing sweatpants. He was still shirtless, and I noticed Missy's eyes taking in his form appreciatively. "You sleeping in here again tonight?" she inquired.

"I figured I would if it helps Dana sleep."

"Let me tell you, if I had you sleeping next to me, it would help me sleep better, too." I glared at her, and she threw up her hands. "Fine. Have fun. Just try not to be too loud; you wouldn't want Mom finding out about your slumber party, would you?"

Mulder crawled into bed first, and I curled up beside him, burrowing comfortably into his warm, familiar form. He put an arm around me, holding me close as we both drifted off to sleep.

The next week seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, it was time for Mulder to return to school. I drove him to the airport, and he gave me a long, lingering kiss, pulling away with his hands still framing my face. He rested his forehead against mine. "I'll be back in six weeks," he reminded me. "In plenty of time for me to be there when this little one enters the world." He placed a warm hand on my stomach, and the baby gave a kick against his palm.

"I know." I bit the inside of my lip to prevent myself from crying. I really hated the pregnancy hormones which raged through my body.

"But you're going to miss me," he guessed with a wide grin.

"Hey, you're going to miss me, too," I told him, hitting his shoulder.

"More than you can imagine," he said seriously, kissing me again. Our lips remained locked until the final call for boarding his flight sounded at which point he pulled away slowly. "I have to go." Still, he did not move.

"You really should go," I remarked after a few seconds.

"Yeah." He kissed me a final time before releasing me. "I really am going to miss you." And with that, he was gone, waving a final time as he disappeared down the hallway to board the plane.

The next six weeks were some of the longest of my life. I felt huge; my ever-expanding stomach made even the simplest tasks extremely difficult. And to top it all off, summer was coming, so it was hot, almost stifling. I could not walk ten feet outside without breaking into a sweat. I felt bloated and tired nearly all the time. My mother tried to help, and I attempted to let her, but in truth, she was not really helping much. All I wanted was for my senior year to be over and for the baby to just hurry up and come out. And I wanted Mulder to come back; I think I wanted that more than anything else.

On my last day of school, I was shuffling out to the car, ready to simply go home and collapse for awhile. I was not sleeping well again, so I was tired, and my exhaustion was certainly not helping my mood. But I was finished. I had turned in my last final that day; high school was over. I just had to get through graduation the following day (a ceremony I was not looking forward to—black robes and eighty degree weather could not bode well for me), and then I would have everything behind me.

I was stepping outside when I heard a familiar voice remark, "I don't know how you stand this weather. It's hotter than hell out here."

"Mulder?" I turned to see him leaning against the wall of the building, a large smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He pushed himself up so he was standing straight, approaching me with his arms spread wide. Our lips crashed together, and we spent a minute or so lost in each other.

When he pulled back, he placed a hand on my stomach, remarking, "Wow, Scully, are you sure there's only one baby in there?"

I slapped his hand, smiling. His statement may have seemed insensitive, but I knew better. This was Mulder. He had his own unique brand of humor that I had come to know and love over the years. "What would you do if I said no, Mulder?"

"Hmm, well let's see." He put his arms around my waist, bringing me as close as my large stomach would allow. "I think we'd have to let them duke it out. See which one comes out on top, and then we can keep that one." I punched his shoulder, and he chuckled. "Honestly, though? I'd be just as happy with two. More so actually. It would just be more to love." He frowned suddenly. "Though we'd have to talk about the whole less sleep and more diapers thing." I laughed for the first time in a few days, looping my arms around his neck to kiss him again. When we finally separated, we started toward the car, his arm around my waist. Missy was already in the driver's seat when I reached the car. As we climbed in, she turned to Mulder.

"I thought you weren't due back for another couple days."

"I finished my finals early, so I managed to catch an earlier flight. I thought it would be nice if I could get back in time for graduation."

"Roasting in the sun for two hours tomorrow morning? I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss that," Missy remarked sarcastically.

"I've been meaning to get a tan anyway," he said. "It's so hard in England. All that rain." Missy shook her head at him as she started the car to take us home.

Ahab was back for a few weeks, and he greeted Mulder with less animosity than I had expected. I only hoped that Bill would show the same courtesy the following week when he returned from college. Of course, I feared that I was asking for too much; my older brother had never been one to show kindness toward anyone that I dated. I guess four of five wasn't too bad. It could certainly have been worse.

Mulder sat down on the couch in the living room, and Ahab quickly engaged him in a conversation about basketball. I curled against Mulder's side and half-listened to what they were saying, soothed by both the cadence of their voices and Mulder's steady heartbeat beneath my ear. Before long, I slipped into sleep. A short time later, I felt Mulder's lips on my temple. "You should get to bed," he told me. I nodded, standing, and we blearily made the way to bed.

I was right; the graduation ceremony the next day was so hot it was almost unbearable. I didn't understand why the robes had to be black, but I felt as if I were sitting in a furnace for the entire ceremony. It did not help matters that the guy next to me was too large for the chair, and I ended up sitting on the opposite edge of my chair in an attempt to avoid him. The girl on my other side seemed sympathetic to my plight, for she shifted her chair slightly to allow me to move towards her. I gave her a grateful smile before shifting my chair, too, my hand on my expansive stomach as I moved. I had not wanted to attend the ceremony, but my mother had insisted, and I really had no choice. The girl smiled at me, her eyes focusing on my stomach. "How far along?" she whispered, leaning closer to me.

I turned to her; the principal was saying something about our journey through school, repeating the same trite phrases that were used at graduation ceremonies everywhere, phrases that I did not particularly care to hear again. "Eight months," I told her. "Actually, a little bit more than eight months now."

"Wow. You must be uncomfortable."

"Very." My attention returned to the principal as he finished his speech and began introducing the valedictorian. Right, the other reason that I was dreading today's ceremony. I heard him call my name, and I placed my hand on the back of my chair, pushing myself to my feet. As I began to waddle toward the stage, I heard the whispers of the audience, but I kept a wide smile plastered on my face. The principal extended a hand to help me up the stairs which I took, not because I needed it, but because I felt it would be wrong not to. Once I was at the podium, he shook my hand firmly before taking his seat again as I stepped behind the podium, spreading my speech out in front of me. I had been working on it for a couple weeks, trying to make it perfect. I had always felt that when I gave the speech the first time, it had been missing something, so I had spent a good deal of time trying to figure out what that was. I still was not sure if I had found the missing piece, but I had done the best I could. My mother and Mulder had both offered to help, but I refused, knowing that this was something I needed to do myself. I would not even let them read my speech; I wanted the first time they heard it to be at the graduation ceremony.

I cleared my throat, my smile diminishing a bit due to my nerves as I thanked the principal. As I went on to offer the necessary thanks to teachers, parents, and classmates, my eyes travelled over the crowd. Like a magnet, my eyes were drawn to Mulder where he was sitting in the third row beside Charlie, smiling as he watched me. When he saw me looking at him, he gave a wink and a thumbs up, and I felt myself relaxing slightly. I could do this.

"I learned a long time ago that you have to expect the unexpected," I began. "Life has a way of throwing things in our path that we can never anticipate. I once had a friend tell me, 'If we fail to anticipate the unforeseen or expect the unexpected in a universe of infinite possibilities, we may find ourselves at the mercy of anyone or anything that cannot be programmed, categorized, or easily referenced.' When I first heard that, I was only beginning to understand how true it was. Now, I've realized that though you may have your whole life planned out now, it's very unlikely that where you think you will be in fifteen years is where you will actually be. It's great to have a plan, but you have to be ready to adapt. Knowing where you want to go is important, but the most important thing in your life is being able to accept change and thrive on it, to take a different path if life forces you on one and to make the most of this path.

The other important thing I've learned is to live in the moment. No one knows where they're going to be in fifteen years. You may think you do, but in reality, you'll probably be somewhere you never expected. And so there's no point in worrying about tomorrow. Tomorrow's going to come. What is important is what you do today. Sure, you should prepare for tomorrow, but you can't obsess over it to the point where you forget to enjoy today. Because the same thing's going to happen tomorrow. And eventually, you'll realize that because of all your obsessing, you never really had a chance to enjoy life like you should. We're only beginning our life now, taking our first steps into the world. So enjoy it. Relish your life. Live it.

And don't forget the people who got us here today, our friends and family. The people who love us. Because no matter what hardships we face in life, those people are always going to be there for us. They're the people we can trust, the people who give us the strength to go on when everything seems hopeless. They are the ones who help us adapt to the changes in life, the ones that provide us with refuge from the storm. I am grateful for these people in my life, for I would not be here without them, and I am sure many of you can say the same."

Mulder's eyes were boring into my own, and I could not tear my eyes from his. It was as if the rest of the audience did not exist, as if the speech was only for him. And in some ways, it was, for I had written the speech while thinking of our time together, the difficulties we had faced, and the mistakes I had made. Neither of us had lived enough in the moment. We were always so focused on finding the truth, on finishing our quest, that we forgot the other things in life, the small pleasures which made each day worth living. Or at least, we had forgotten about them until it was too late. And now, we had a second chance, and I was certainly not going to squander it. Ben Franklin had once said, "Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of." During my time on the X-files, I had finally realized what he had meant.

After the ceremony was over and I had completed the mandatory throwing of my cap, I made my way through the crowd to my family, acknowledging the compliments on my speech with a nod and a smile to the people who gave them. When I reached my parents, I asked, "So, what do you think? How'd I do?"

"You did great, honey," my mother assured me, pulling me into a hug.

"It was a wonderful speech, Starbuck," my father agreed, also hugging me. As they turned to congratulate Missy, too, I turned to Mulder. He was standing slightly to the side of my family, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks, his eyes studying me carefully. I did not have to repeat the question; he knew immediately what I wanted to ask. He stepped closer to me before responding.

"Let's live in the moment, Scully," he declared, wrapping his arms around me. And then, heedless of the other graduates and their families surrounding us along with my own family, he brought his lips to mine in a kiss full of promise.


	14. Chapter 14

I'm sorry it's been so long. School's been. . . well, school. But I'm almost done now, and I've gotten excited about this story again, so updates will hopefully be a bit more frequent now. And this chapter's short, but I'm almost done with the next which is much longer.

Chapter 18 (Mulder)

A few members of Scully's family stopped by after graduation, and I was introduced to various aunts, uncles, and cousins. I was extremely grateful for my photographic memory which allowed me to retain the whirlwind of names that were given to me. Despite the amount of time I had known Scully, I had never met many of her relatives in our previous life except for her immediate family and a couple aunts. I enjoyed meeting them now, for watching her interact with them allowed me to see a whole new side of Scully, a side I had been growing more and more acquainted with over the past few months. This Scully was the pre-X-files Scully, the girl with big dreams and ambition who did not let anything stop her. And while the Scully I knew still retained some of those qualities even after eight years on the X-files, she was undeniably different. And yet I found myself falling more in love with her.

Our wedding was one of the main topics of discussion among the relatives. We had set the date, and Scully and her mother had sent out invitations a couple weeks before and had already started planning. I had added my own meager list of family members to theirs, bringing the total number of guests up to around seventy-five. It was more than I had anticipated since Scully had wanted a small wedding, but I expected her mother had something to do with the larger than expected guest list. Of course, I did not really mind one way or the other. The only thing I cared about was having Scully standing beside me at the altar.

I had just finished talking to one of the Scullys' neighbors when I saw Charlie approaching me with two boys about his own age trailing behind him. I recognized one as a cousin I had been introduced to earlier. I was almost positive his name was Tim, but I did not feel like sticking my foot in my mouth, so I waited patiently for Charlie to introduce them. "Mulder, can we go play basketball with Tim and Clay?" he questioned as soon as he was within hearing distance. I glanced over at Scully who was deeply engaged in a conversation with one of her mother's aunts. Since it did not seem that she was likely to surface any time soon, I saw no harm in agreeing to Charlie's request.

"Sure, buddy, sound good," I told him. "I just need to go change." A wide grin split Charlie's face, and as I made my way up the stairs, I heard him telling his friends about how I was the "best basketball player not in the pros."

I made my way outside a couple minutes later wondering how I was going to live up to Charlie's high praise. The boys had already retrieved the basketball and were practicing their shooting. Tim, who was the tallest in the group, was actually a decent shot; he and Charlie seemed fairly evenly matched in ability. The other boy, however, looked to be a couple years younger than Tim and Charlie and also seemed to struggle a bit more with both shooting and dribbling. "How about I take Clay, and Tim and Charlie can play together," I suggested, easily catching an errant ball as it bounced off the rim. The three turned to look at me.

"You just say that because he's no good and you don't want him to feel bad," Tim remarked, glaring at the younger boy. I say the boy's lip jut out, and I quickly stepped in.

"No. I only take the best on my team. Isn't that right, Charlie?" I glanced at Charlie for support, and for a few agonizing seconds, I thought he was going to disagree. Finally, however, he nodded.

"Yeah, Mulder won't play with anyone who's not good," he said. I shot Charlie a grateful look, but he simply refocused his attention on the basketball in his hand, dribbling it carefully between his legs as he moved toward the basket. He was growing fairly quickly, I noticed; it seemed that he had gained an inch or so since the last time I had visited the Scullys. He was in the awkward phase—all limbs and feet and unsure of what to do with his body. I remembered that particular phase well.

Upon reaching the basket, Charlie turned and tossed me the ball. "Shoot for it," he instructed. Obediently, I stepped backwards so that I stood behind the chalk three-point line. I raised the ball to the level of my forehead, eyeing the basket carefully. Bending my knees, I used my legs to propel the ball forward. I knew as soon as it left my hands that it was going into the basket.

Sure enough, the ball sailed smoothly through the net, and Charlie retrieved it with a slight scowl. "You always make the shot," he grumbled.

"I don't _always _make it," I remarked, catching the ball as he passed it to me.

"You do most of the time."

"And you will soon, too, if you're working on your three-point shot like I told you."

"I am," he promised. "I'll show you later."

I nodded, turning to Tim who was standing just under the three-point line, ready to receive the ball when I checked it. "You ready, Clay?" I called, glancing at my young teammate. The boy nodded, a determined look on his face. I smiled at him, bouncing the ball to Tim. As soon as he bounced it back, he stepped up to me, already attempting to strip the ball from my grasp.

"You might not want to do that," Charlie commented from my right where he was guarding Clay.

"Why not?" Tim asked haughtily. I decided I did not particularly like the kid, and with two quick steps, I dribbled past him, my long legs taking me easily to the basket. I made the easy lay-up, slapping the backboard for good measure. I knew Scully would have teased me for the action had she been watching, but I was looking to wipe the smile off Tim's snotty face.

"That's why," Charlie explained, a note of exasperation in his voice. "You want me to take him? I've played with Mulder before, so I know his moves better."

"No, I've got him," Tim declared firmly.

Charlie chuckled. "No one ever has him," he muttered, but he turned back to Clay, choosing to ignore his teammate. This time, I once more dribbled easily around Tim, moving in Charlie's direction. As soon as Charlie stepped up to help, I passed the ball Clay. The boy caught it, but his face had adopted the look of a deer in the headlights, and he hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"Shoot it," I instructed, turning to pin Charlie behind me. Clay sent the ball flying toward the basket. His form was awful, and the ball bounced high on the backboard before flying straight back at him. He caught it, a look of surprise on his face. Wanting to rid himself of the ball, he tossed it to me. The pass was wide, but my arms were long, and I managed to grab it and pull it into my body.

"You remember your post defense, Charlie?" I questioned, peeking over one shoulder. Charlie groaned.

"You and I both know that no matter how well I remember it, you're going to get me every time." Still, he moved behind me, ready to defend whatever move I made. I faked to the left before turning right. Charlie stepped up, but an over-under move took me around him, and I again made an easy lay-up. Tim stepped over at the end to stop me, but he only succeeded in slapping ineffectually at my elbow.

We played for awhile longer, and after much encouragement and a few truly horrid shots, Clay did manage to shoot something which went into the basket. We were winning 12-4, and it was clear that Tim was beginning to grow agitated. "I've heard you and Dana are having a baby," he remarked snidely as I checked the ball.

"We are," I confirmed, catching the ball when he passed it back.

"But you aren't married."

"We will be soon."

"Before or after the baby's born?"

"After."

"I thought you couldn't have a baby before you were married," Clay remarked from beside me. I turned to him, thinking. I was not sure how much detail I should give the young boy.

"Usually, it happens that way, but it doesn't have to."

"Dad says that you've corrupted Dana," Tim remarked snidely. "He says she used to be such a nice girl, but now you've gone and turned her into a harlot."

I literally saw red when the words came out of Tim's mouth. I gripped the basketball more tightly, telling myself that Tim was simply raised wrong and was only repeating the words of an adult he respected. He likely did not even know the meaning of the word he had used. I vaguely heard Charlie asking what a harlot was, but I could not bring myself to answer. "You know what, Charlie, I'm a little tired," I said quickly. "I think I'm going to go inside for a bit."

"He also said you guys wouldn't last a year. That you'd leave her and the baby, and then she would have to raise it all on her own and drop out of school to take a minimum wage job in order to make ends meet." I closed my eyes, counting slowly to ten as I blocked out the boy's words. I tossed the basketball to Charlie and turned toward the house. I made my way inside, ignoring Charlie's calls for me to return and Tim's taunts about how I could not take him in basketball.

I found Dana in the living room with a group of relatives. Coming up behind her, I placed a gentle hand on her back, and she turned to look at me. I saw the concern and question flash in her eyes, and I silently promised to tell her later. She nodded, unsatisfied with the response but knowledgeable that she would not receive a more satisfying one. Turning back to her relatives, she introduced me. "This is my fiancé, Fox Mulder," she said, gesturing to me. I smiled slightly as they all greeted me.

"I heard the date has been set for August 15," an elderly woman remarked.

"It has." My smile grew larger and more genuine; I could not help it. It still seemed so surreal that in just a few short months, I would finally be wed to Dana Scully, the love of my life. And in even less time, I would finally hold our baby. This time, I would be there for more than 48 hours. I was not in danger; there was no reason why I would have to go into hiding. I would be able to see more than the first two days of my son or daughter's life. I would see his or her first smile, be there for the first word and steps, teach him or her to ride a bike. I was going to be the best father I could be. We had our second chance, and I was not going to waste it.

The conversation turned to the upcoming wedding and birth, and for the entire time, I simply could not keep the grin from my face. When her relatives had moved on to other conversations, Scully glanced up at me. "You seem happy," she noted.

"Over the moon," I agreed.

"Any particular reason."

"Oh, there's plenty. One, I love you. Two, I love our baby. Three, four, five, six, I love you." I grinned wider as she kissed my lips quickly.

"I love you, too."

"You better after I agreed to spend the whole afternoon with your crazy relatives."

"So what happened earlier anyway?" she questioned as we settled onto the couch in a quiet corner of the room. My eyes darkened.

"It's not important."

"Mulder." Her voice had a warning tone I recognized all too well.

"One of your cousins was being a bit of an ass, but it's fine. He's just a kid. I blame his parents more than him."

"Tim?" Scully guessed. I nodded. "Yeah, he can get that way. His dad's worse. I started ignoring them a long time ago."

"Seems like a solid strategy."

"You ready to go meet some more crazy relatives?"

"I'd go anywhere with you, babe."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 19 (Scully)

Two weeks after my graduation, I waddled through my house to find some food, my hand pressed against my lower back. My back had been bothering me more than usual since I woke up that morning, and I could not seem to find a comfortable position anywhere. I grabbed a yogurt out of the fridge and returned to the living room where Mulder was engrossed in a baby book, an uncapped highlighter between his teeth. "Studying hard?" I questioned.

"I just want to know everything I can," he said, removing the highlighter from his mouth. He held an arm out to me, and I happily snuggled against his side. The ache slowly began to lessen as I melded my body against his.

"Mmm, this is the first comfortable position I've found all day," I remarked, turning my head to inhale his comforting, familiar scent.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, his attention now fully focused on me. It still amazed me how intense he could be sometimes. When he focused all of his attention on something, he truly did invest all of his efforts in it. I had found that he could accomplish some things I would have previously considered impossible because of his intense focus and concentration.

"Nothing much. I've just had a backache all day."

"You want a backrub?" he offered.

I smiled into his shoulder. "Maybe later. I'm comfortable here." He nodded, wrapping an arm around me so that his hand rested on my lower back. It was a warm, comforting weight, and as he began to rub his fingers slowly over the area, I felt myself relaxing. In no time at all, I had fallen asleep.

I awoke with a start sometime later. Mulder had returned to his reading though his hand still rested on my back, absentmindedly rubbing small circles over it. I spent a few seconds trying to discern what had awaken me before I realized that the lower part of my body was wet. Since I had not wet the bed in years, I spent a few confused moments trying to figure out what had occurred before my medical training provided the answer. "Mulder," I said, sitting up straighter.

"What is it?" he asked, turning to me.

"We should probably get to the hospital."

"Is it time?"

"I think so. My water broke." He immediately stood, reaching down to help me rise from the couch. I stood with his help, and he began moving toward the stairs. "I'm going to go tell your mother and get your bag," he announced.

"Hurry back," I told him, grimacing as a spasm of pain shot across my back. Noticing my face, he nodded quickly and increased his pace.

Within two minutes, he had returned, a small duffel slung across one shoulder. "She offered to go to the hospital with us, but I told her I'd take you. She did agree, but I was instructed to call her as soon as you get closer." I nodded, gritting my teeth against the pain. I had thought it was bad that morning, but now I felt as if my back was splitting in two. Mulder, of course, noticed immediately. "You okay, Scully?" he inquired. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"It's just a little painful, but it's not so bad. At least this time I'll be at a hospital."

He smiled slightly. "True. But we still have to get there. Come on, let's go."

The drive to the hospital was fortunately short; by the time we reached it, my breathing had grown even more labored as I attempted to fight off the pain. Mulder hurried out of the car, opening the passenger door and helping me to exit. As he again shouldered by overnight bag, he slammed the door shut and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Together, we walked into the hospital. He settled me in a seat before walking toward the nurses' station to check me in. As I waited for him to return, still breathing through my teeth, I heard the chair beside me move back.

"You look like you're in the same boat as me," a voice remarked. I looked to the side to see a girl about my own age now sitting in the chair beside me. She, too, was very pregnant. "You in labor?" she asked.

"I am," I confirmed.

"Me too. Though the nurses say I have a long way ahead of me. My contractions are still pretty far apart."

"Yeah, I think I've been having contractions all morning, but I didn't realize it until my water broke," I told her.

"Are you here by yourself?"

"No, my fiancé came with me. He just went to check in."

"He stuck around after finding out he was going to have a kid?" the other girl seemed incredulous. I nodded. "You're lucky. The father of this little guy cut and run as soon as he found out I was pregnant." She patted her stomach thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I've had plenty of time to deal with it. I didn't expect much more out of him anyway. We weren't really that serious; we were just having some fun." She laughed self-depracatingly. "Well, you can see where that got me."

I was trying to think of what to say next when Mulder rejoined me, dropping into the chair on my other side. "They say we need to fill out these forms," he announced, showing me a number of forms. "They also said it could still be a few hours, and they probably won't get us a room til closer to time."

"I figured that." I took the forms from his hands and bent over them to begin filling them out.

"They told me that, too," the girl remarked from my other side. "You must be the fiancé," she guessed.

Mulder nodded. "Mulder," he said, reaching a hand across me.

"Helen," the girl announced, taking his hand. "That's an unusual name."

"It's my last name. I'm not fond of my first."

"I'm Dana, by the way," I introduced, belatedly realizing that I had not yet told the girl my name. We shook hands before I returned to the forms, leaving Mulder and Helen to make small talk.

"Do you know if you're having a boy or girl?" Helen questioned.

"Nope. You?"

"A boy. Which do you want?"

"Either, as long as he or she is healthy."

"You're doing a good thing here, you know."

"In what way?"

"Being here for Dana."

"It's the least I could do. After all, it's my baby too."

"If only all guys felt that way."

Eventually, a nurse came out and called Helen's name. Mulder jumped up from his seat to help her up, but she had already pushed herself to her feet. "Good luck," she told us. "I'll see you on the other side I guess."

"Good luck to you, too," I told her as she left. Mulder nodded, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him, gripping his hand as pain once more coursed through my body.

"I had forgotten how painful this is," I remarked, gritting my teeth.

"Just breathe through it. You're doing great." Mulder coached me gently, rubbing my shoulder with one hand as the fingers of his other gently stroked the back of my hand. After a few moments, I relaxed slightly. "They seem to be getting worse," Mulder noted as my breathing evened.

"They tend to do that," I told him, remembering the previous occasion when I had been in labor. As I relaxed against his shoulder again, a nurse called out my name. "That's our cue," I said, standing with his help. He followed me to where the nurse was standing.

"Ms. Scully, how are you doing today?" the nurse questioned.

"I'm good," I said. "It's somewhat painful, but I expected as much."

The nurse clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Unfortunately, it's only going to get worse. We can get you something for it if you like."

"I think I'm okay for now. Maybe later," I said. I wanted to continue with the birth as naturally as possible, but it was still nice to know that drugs were available if I wanted them. Things were different than last time. The nurse nodded.

"Well, if you'll just follow me, we have a room ready for you. You should be more comfortable there." She turned her attention to Mulder. "I assume you're the father."

"That's correct," he said, tightening his arm around my shoulders.

"Great. We'll just get you two to the room, and then I'll help you find some scrubs so you can stay with her." Mulder nodded, and we followed the nurse to the elevator. We took the elevator to the fourth floor, exiting into a hallway with pastel-colored walls bordered by stenciled animals and toys. The nurse led us to a similarly-decorated room with a single bed in the center surrounded by various monitors. I catalogued the equipment in the room, noting that everything seemed to be in place. I nodded, satisfied with the arrangements.

"Better than an abandoned building in Georgia, huh?" Mulder whispered in my ear. I smiled slightly at that comment, knowing he was thinking about the same thing I was, before settling into the bed at the nurse's instruction. I sighed in contentment, leaning my head back against the pillows. It was nice to be able to relax, knowing that other knowledgeable people were around to deal with the birth.

Once the nurse had settled me in the bed, she beckoned Mulder out, and he followed her to retrieve scrubs. Another contraction hit me shortly after they left, and I gripped the sheet beside me as I tried to breathe through it. As I took deep breaths, I found myself wishing that Mulder was with me. His mere presence seemed to lessen the pain. I did not know how Helen was planning on giving birth alone. Reason reminded me that I did not need him there; after all, he had not been around last time I had given birth, and that particular birth had occurred under much more trying circumstances. Still, I wanted him beside me.

Fortunately, he returned soon, moving a chair next to my bed so that he could sit beside me. He took my hand between his, bringing it to his lips so that he could place a gentle kiss on my knuckles. His eyes shone with love as he stared at me. "How are we doing?" he questioned.

"We're doing just fine," I assured him, turning my attention to the nurse who was bustling around, hooking me up to various machines. One of them kept track of the baby's heartbeat, and I smiled as I heard the sound. Mulder, too, was grinning, and the hand not holding mine moved to my stomach.

"Hello, little guy," he greeted.

"Or girl," I reminded him.

"Or girl," he added. He leaned over to kiss my forehead just as another contraction ripped through my body. My grip on his hand tightened, and he immediately began to comfort me. His soothing voice relaxed me, and the warm weight of his hand on my stomach comforted me, letting me know that I was not alone.

Four hours later, my contractions were much stronger and closer together. Each time one took hold of me, I felt as though someone were burning my insides. Mulder had tried to help me breathe through them as best as he could, but even his touch and words no longer provided much comfort to me. I thought about asking the nurse for the pain pills she had offered earlier, but I still wanted the birth to be as natural as possible. And so I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the pain.

As a particularly strong contraction ended, I collapsed against the pillow, shutting my eyes. My hair was matted to my head with sweat, and my arms were a bit shaky as I released Mulder's hand and reached for the glass of water by my bed. He noticed the tremors, and he took the glass instead, guiding it to my mouth. I took a long, grateful sip of the liquid before sighing. "I don't know if I can do this," I muttered.

"Of course you can," he assured me.

"I feel like someone is ripping me apart from the inside."

"Do you want me to go find the nurse and see if she can get you something?" he offered, using a damp cloth near the bed to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

I shook my head wearily. "No, I think I just need to rest for a minute." Unfortunately, my body had no intention of resting; after only a few seconds, another contraction hit me hard, causing me to cry out in pain and grope wildly around for Mulder's hand. He quickly provided the hand, leaning down so that he could talk me through the breathing as pain rippled through my body.

"They're a lot closer together now," he observed once my breathing had steadied.

I nodded. "I think it's getting close to time."

"I need to call your mother." I swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he did indeed need to call her but unwilling to have him leave nevertheless. He obviously sensed my reluctance, for he hastened to reassure me. "I'll be back in a few seconds," he promised, leaning over to press a kiss to my sweaty forehead.

Though he was true to his word, another contraction had begun by the time he returned. He was immediately at my side, coaching me through the pain. As the contraction finished, the door to the room opened again, and the nurse bustled in. "How are we doing?" she questioned.

"I'm ready for this to be over," I told her through clenched teeth.

"Do you want me to get you something?" the nurse offered.

I shook my head. "I've made it this far without any medication. I'd like to see it through. I just wish this baby would hurry up and come."

"That's how most mothers feel. Now, let me just check on your dilation." She lifted the sheet over my legs and looked for a moment before replacing it, patting my shins comfortingly. "You're almost there. It shouldn't be more than an hour now," she reassured me. I forced a smile, trying not to think about how much pain I would have to endure in that hour. I kept reminding myself that it would all be worth it in the end when I finally was able to hold my baby, but as another intense contraction hit, I found it hard to focus on the positive.

Forty-five minutes later, my contractions were so close together that I barely had time to catch my breath between them. My mother had come and offered to sit with me to give Mulder a break, but he refused to leave my side. When the doctor and nurses came in to prep me for delivery, she had left, claiming that there was too little space in the small room for everyone. Mulder was given clear instructions to come find her as soon as the baby was born, and he agreed distractedly, his attention focused on me as another contraction wracked my body. Maggie nodded, sensing his preoccupation, and left.

"Okay, Dana, you're fully dilated now," the doctor told us, taking his place at the foot of the bed. "On the next contraction, I want you to push." I nodded, biting my bottom lip. It was almost over. I could do this. I felt Mulder take my hand in his, squeezing it gently. It was less than a minute before the next contraction came, and I followed the doctor's instructions, squeezing Mulder's hand as I pushed hard. "Good, Dana," the doctor complimented. "Just keep it up. You're almost there."

"You've got this, Babe," Mulder whispered beside me, the rarely-used endearment slipping easily from his lips. I pushed again when the next contraction hit, vaguely hearing the doctor tell me the head was crowning. Catching my breath during the brief break that I had, I continued to push. I was only vaguely aware of time; before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I heard a loud wail.

"Congratulations, Mom," the doctor told me. "You have a beautiful baby girl. Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?" Mulder nodded, moving toward the end of the bed. The doctor handed him the scissors and pointed to where he should cut. As soon as he cut it, a nurse whisked the baby away to clean her up. Mulder rejoined me, bending down gently kiss my forehead.

"We have a daughter, Scully," he whispered. "I'm a father."

"Again," I said with a slight smile.

"You look beautiful," he told me, wiping the hair out of my face. I snorted at that; I certainly did not feel beautiful. I felt drained; I was tired and sweaty, and all I wanted to do was to hold my baby. I prayed that this time around, nothing would stop us from raising our child, from being there for all her firsts. I was going to make up for everything I missed in my old life now that I had my second chance.

A few minutes later, the nurse returned with a small pink bundle in her arms. "Okay, Mom and Dad, are you ready to meet your little girl?" she questioned. Both Mulder and I nodded eagerly, and the nurse placed the bundle in my arms. I looked down at my daughter, unable to keep the small smile from my face.

"Hello, Sweetheart, I'm your Mommy," I whispered, receiving a large yawn in response to my words. Mulder had his arm around me, and he, too, was staring at the tiny miracle I held. He kissed the side of my head, and I felt the wetness of his tears come in contact with my hair. I knew that my eyes, too, were filled with moisture. I turned to the side, and we kissed briefly. When we pulled apart, my eyes shone with love, a love built from twenty years together.

"I need to go get your mother," he reminded me though he made no move to leave me or the precious bundle I held in my arms. I nodded, but he still did not move. After a few seconds, he added, "Probably soon or she won't be too happy with me."

"We'll still be here when you get back, Mulder," I assured him. His lips curled upward slightly, and he kissed both of our heads before turning and leaving the room. I watched him go, but as soon as the door closed behind him, my attention returned to the baby I held. "You're already loved very much," I assured my daughter. "Now we just need to come up with a name for you."

Mulder and I had debated names for awhile. We had managed to narrow the boys' names down to Sean Richard, but we were stuck between two different girls' names. Mulder was pushing for Caitlyn Grace, but I had my heard set on Lily Amanda. We had discussed the possibility of naming our daughter Samantha, but Mulder had vetoed the idea, claiming that he wanted his child to be unique in both name and character. I didn't say anything, but I knew he was still hoping to find his sister alive, and naming his daughter after her was a tacit acknowledgement that he might never accomplish this goal.

The door opened, and I looked up to see my mother entering the room, Mulder following behind her. She rushed to my side, already exclaiming over the baby I held. "Oh, Dana, she's beautiful!" my mother told me.

"That she is," I agreed, rocking her back and forth. Mulder quietly moved beside me, and I passed him the bundle. She stirred for a moment but settled quickly, seeming to recognize him. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and an understanding passed between us. "Caitlyn Grace," he said softly, causing the baby to stare up at him, her eyes open wide. I smiled, nodding in confirmation. As soon as I had seen the baby, I knew that his name was a better fit. I could not explain exactly why.

"It's a beautiful name," Maggie agreed, watching Mulder hold the baby. I was not completely sure, but I thought I saw a spark of jealousy in her eyes. Mulder must have sensed it, too, because he turned to her, holding Caitlyn out.

"Would you like to hold her, Maggie?" he asked. Maggie's eyes brightened, and she eagerly accepted the bundle. Caitlyn allowed herself to be held by her grandmother for a few moments before letting out a wail of protest.

"Looks like she wants her parents back," Maggie remarked, passing her to Mulder who already had his hands held out. He immediately cuddled her to his chest, and she quieted within a few seconds. I was amazed at how quickly he had adapted to holding a baby in his arms; after all, he had only been around William for forty-eight hours before he had to go into hiding. However, he had handled William with a surprising expertise, too, given his lack of parenting experience; however, Scully had learned long before to expect the unexpected when it came to Mulder. After all the things they had seen and done over the years, she supposed his natural abilities at parenting should not really be particularly surprising.

Mulder looked down at me, a smile on his face, and I could tell immediately what he was thinking. This was the way our first child's birth should occur.


End file.
